A Little More Heart
by nickaroos
Summary: Carlisle's reason was what made him unique and what he relied upon to make a decision. Edward gone to find Victoria, her family unhappy, Esme can't help but wonder what would have life been like if Carlisle had let go of his reason some and been able to follow his heart just a little bit more in 1911. Full summary enclosed. AU with cannon characters. *COMPLETE*
1. Strain Between Us

Title: A Little More Heart

Summary: Esme never told her husband how deeply meeting him at sixteen impacted her. She never really regretting putting her human life, meeting Carlisle included, behind her, until Edward came home and demanded that the family leave Bella in Forks. Carlisle has always been a man of reason. As a human, he was not quick to judge like his father. Instead, he asked for evidence, expected proof, and followed facts. This lack of blind fervency caused many a villager to wonder about the well-being of the preacher's only son and his father a little more than frustrated. This odd trait stayed with him into his second life. It was what made him resist humans as a newborn and decide to become a human doctor against all conventional thought. It led him into having exceptional control over his bloodlust and made him into an excellent doctor. Esme knew Carlisle's reason was, throughout his years, what he relied upon when a decision was needed, including was the best course of action regarding Miss Esme Platt, sixteen-year-old tree-climber and avid reader. Edward gone to find Victoria, her family unhappy, Esme can't help but wonder what would have life been like if Carlisle had been able to follow his heart just a little bit more in 1911?

Although story is AU, characters are to cannon as developed in My Family is Odd and Cosmology Shifts.

Rating: T for mild language and relationship elements. Relationship elements contain adult themes like being parents and being married. Consequently, this story may not be suitable for younger teens.

Disclaimer: _Obviously I am not Stephanie Meyer (SM). The story is mine apart from the parts she created. When other writers' stories are referenced, credit is given to them at the top of each chapter._

 _In this chapter Edward's behaviours in this point in cannon comes from Saudade by Haemophilus Leona, and the imagining of how Esme handled Carlisle turning her was inspired by Miki in Blue Jeans story Faith & Love.  
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Beta: **kiwihipp** I cannot say thank her enough for her keen eye (any remaining errors are mine, as I have a tendency to fiddle), thoughtful questions, attempts at keeping me historical accurate, and inspirations. This would not look the same without you.

(Chapter updated with edits: 3 Nov 2017)

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 **Chapter 1: Strain Between Us**

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I was never so in opposition to my husband as the day that our first son had come home and had said that we needed to leave my newest daughter, Bella, behind. It was for the best, Edward had claimed. She was human and we were not, he had argued. Her life would be better off, less dangerous without us in it, he had insisted. He had implied that us leaving her was what she wanted.

After the votes were all in, Carlisle had made the final decision for us to leave Forks. I might not have agreed, but that didn't stop me from doing my part and packing our belongings. Carlisle planned on staying for the next few days, so I left his personal things for him to take care of. It would give him something to do when he was not at the hospital. Each couple were in their rooms packing and I had no idea where Edward had gone off to when Carlisle came to find me.

"Esme?" he asked hesitantly as he came into our bedroom.

It was all in his voice–his love, concern, confusion, doubt.

I didn't look up at him, a rarity, and although my motions slowed, I continued packing.

He came closer and stood only a few feet away from me.

"Esme, please, love," he whispered softly enough that only I would hear the desperation filling his voice, his cadence very much the Englishman of the era he was turned. I had not heard that manner of speech since he talked about his decision to turn Emmett.

Stopping, I turned towards him.

"You are asking me to leave one of my daughters behind," I whispered softly back. There was no anger or frustration in my voice. I had let go of those emotions already. They hadn't even really settled in me to begin with. But there was pain and there was hurt.

"She is not ours, Esme. She is human and she is Charlie's." His voice was softer than the gentlest breeze, the cadence of old only marginally there and the doctor tones of present more prominent.

A part of me wanted to snarl and growl and argue and fight, but this was not my way. I was not headstrong or tenacious like Rosalie. I wasn't coy and single-minded like Alice. I was strong in my own way, but fighting was not how I did things. Yet, I could not agree with Carlisle. She was mine as much as she was Charlie's. There was a bond there what went beyond her connection with Edward or the fact that she was still human. I saw so much of my sixteen-year-old self in her. And even though Bella wasn't me, I believed that I saw her the most clearly out of all of us Cullens.

The pause between Carlisle and I, along with my thoughts, was palatable and heavy.

"How long will you stay?" I asked unwilling to argue.

He took a deep breath his continence indicating that he knew I did not agree.

"A few days and then I will come," he confirmed sounding much like he has for the last decade or so.

I nodded and looked into his eyes. He needed me. He was lost and I was his anchor.

Standing up, I grabbed him and pulled him into my arms holding him tightly. He body was vibrating almost as if he were a human afraid, but at a much subtler level that without the embrace it would have never been noticeable, even to my eyes. He took another deep breath taking in my scent.

"I love you, Carlisle. Nothing will change that." I said these words loud enough that I knew my children would hear.

Certainly Carlisle's and my differing votes would not have gone unnoticed. I didn't want to consider what Jasper might have picked up from Carlisle since the vote. Our children needed my reassure as much as Carlisle did.

"And I you, Esme," he stated with equal clarity. "Love," he whispered into my ear his old English accent strong in this one word, "we need to talk about this."

"Are you going to change your mind before you arrive in Alaska?" I asked quietly enough that only he would hear.

"He is decided. I don't want to lose him. I'm scared we'll lose him completely this time." His whispered confession spoke to his deepest fears, his voice sounding almost exactly as it had when Edward had left us in 1927.

"Neither do I wish for him to leave our family, but I am more afraid that we will lose them both by this path," I confessed back.

He retreated from my arms a little so that he could look into my eyes.

"In Alaska then?" he confirmed in a breath.

Nodding, "Yes," I agreed.

After all these years as a couple, there was no doubt that a few days would make no difference in the conversation. In truth, nothing really could change the bond between Carlisle and I, but it was the most strained it had ever been, and we both knew it.

He looked at me and I did not see the confident husband and father that he usually was, nor even the heartbroken father he had been without Edward. I saw the lost, beaten young man of his early years full of doubt but determined to do the righteous thing. He had that look briefly when he had changed Rosalie and Emmett, but this was deeper rather than a fleeting glance.

I pulled him into my embrace once more.

"We have time," I breathed into his ear.

His continence shifted, the vibration gone. He would follow through with his choice. He would guide and direct us and keep our family safe. That was who my children needed him to be. They were all scared. They needed us to play our roles and be who they had known us to be. These other parts of ourselves, the parts that only Carlisle and I saw of each other, they would have to wait. We knew that was what they needed, and we were glad to have one another.

So, I did my role. I packed and comforted my children as they required and helped them move, even though I was certain that we were making a grave mistake. When Edward was not home and my family did not need me I allowed my mind to review the contentious discussion and vote. Reviewing the past was an activity I hadn't permitted myself to do since Edward had returned to us in 1931, as I had learned that doing so didn't help change it. Despite this lesson, my mind seemed intent on trying to suss out where I had gone wrong as a wife and mother.

Edward had lied. Not blatantly. Not purposefully. No. He had been lying to himself.

I knew all my children well, but none as intimately as Edward. Perhaps because he was my first child in this life; perhaps because he, along with Carlisle, had guided me through my newborn stage; perhaps because he was caught at the age of seventeen and had not properly had the opportunity to grow into himself; or perhaps because he was single and thus the odd man out. Whatever the reason might be, most of the time, I knew him better than he knew himself.

Edward loved Bella; that was abundantly clear. His love caused him to passionately hold the belief in his need to protect her, which mostly stemmed from being raised in an upper-middle class home in the Edwardian era. His behaviours, based on his intentions, as noble as they were, spoke from his own limited point of view. Stuck at seventeen years old, he tended to see the world as right or wrong, black or white, as he had not yet been forced to face the world of grey before Carlisle turned him.

Edward refused to allow himself or our existence to hurt Bella. The very abhorrence of that thought was what had kept him from draining her, despite the call her blood made to him. Hurting her was simply unacceptable. From a perfectly rational point of view his desire to keep her safe and his willingness to sacrifice himself to make it so made perfect sense. Consequently, as he had spoken, I could see and understand all that had brought him to his insistence that we leave, including the lies he was telling himself. The major problem was that he did not see the bigger picture. His view was limited, had always been limited, and would probably always be limited. In moments when it was only Carlisle and I, I teased him that turning a teenager might not have been the greatest of plans.

The problem with Edward's limited point of view was not so much that it was limited, per say, although certainly that did not help matters. No, the root of the problem on this matter was really with Carlisle, as that was where Edward's perspective originated. Even if Carlisle had never implied that leaving Bella was best, the beliefs that had caused Edward to draw those conclusions had originated in Carlisle's choices. Carlisle had walked away from me upon our first meeting when I had been sixteen, and thus Edward, when he walked in and demanded that we leave Forks, asked us to consent to him making the same mistake Carlisle had with me. I could not agree, even in the face of the cost that I would pay and that our family would pay for Carlisle and I being in discord.

My pondering of the role I had played in our desertion of Bella was put aside temporarily once we came upon the Denali's (our cousins of a sort that have a place in Alaska), where we had decided to land initially in order to regroup. When we arrived Tanya, the leader, along with Kate, Irina, Carmen and Eleazar, Carmen's mate and a former member of the Volturi guard, our self-appointed rule enforcers, greeted us. They were hospitable as always. It was actually Carmen, the quietest of the women, who eventually brought up the subject of what had caused us to leave Forks.

"Edward fell in love with a human girl. We felt it best to leave before anything untoward happened," I explained while Rosalie and Emmett attempted to remain neutral.

As soon as we had arrived, Alice and Jasper had left claiming a need to hunt. I knew that given the recent events they needed time as a couple. Alice would see with her gift of precognition when to return.

"Edward did? Really?" Tanya was shocked. "I don't suppose it was the reason he was up here last January?"

"Actually, yes, Tanya, it was," I confirmed.

"Only Edward in love could cause him to flee in terror," Tanya giggled. "Perhaps he should take a page out of our book, then, and learn to enjoy a human's company?"

As a family we had agreed that it wouldn't be kind of us to expose them to the reality of our situation with Bella, since her knowing what we were, according to the law, could have meant her and our deaths. There was no reason for our cousins to be connected to this. At the same time, it was possible that Laurent, who had seen us with Bella last March, had mentioned her to them. If that were the case, then we would simply confirm what they already knew. Holding my wish not to lie to them, while wanting to protect them made the conversation tricky to navigate.

"No, Edward is still much a man of the Edwardian era. He held no wish to change her, so he thought it best for us to leave and let her be. We left upon his request," I told them.

"Such a shame, a woman would do him good," Irina put in.

"Where is Laurent, Irina?" Rosalie asked too sweetly.

If they noticed her tone, they did not indicate so.

"He finds it difficult to stay with us all the time," Irina explained. "He was a nomad all his years. We understand. It took us many centuries to stay settled in one place. Sometimes he will leave for a few days and then return. He just left. He should be back within the week."

That was good to know. Personally I hoped that seeing Laurent again could be avoided.

"When will Edward and Carlisle be joining us?" Kate asked obviously trying to get the conversation onto something else.

"No later than Saturday," I informed them. "They are wrapping up loose ends. We will begin looking for a new place in the mean time. We did not intend to stay long, despite the company."

"You know you are welcome to stay as long as you wish," Tanya put in.

"Yes, thank you very much, but given our plans it would be better suited for us to settle into the new place sooner than later."

"So, what are your plans?" Carmen asked.

"Rosalie and Emmett intend to travel. Jasper wishes to go to college. Alice wants to research her human history. Carlisle will work, and I will redesign a new home."

"What is this about Alice's human history?" asked Irina, but Eleazar, who had a gift for knowing when someone was gifted and about how his or her gift worked, looked as equally curious.

"We learned from Laurent's former coven member, James, that Alice had been committed to a mental institute as a human. Evidently James was after her when she was human, but another vampire bit her to save her from him. In retribution James killed Alice's maker, which was why she woke up alone."

"She had the gift of sight as a human?" Eleazar asked astonished.

"It would seem that way," I acknowledged, "although we are not sure and she hopes that her explorations will tell her more. It might be good for her to have details about where she came from."

Everyone nodded thoughtfully.

"What a dreadful way to find out though," Carmen said glumly. "We assumed James is no longer with us."

"Unfortunately, he left us no choice," I explained simply. He would have never stopped hunting Bella otherwise.

"What about the other coven member, Victoria?" Kate asked.

"We never did come across her. We suspect she has a gift for evasion and James had a gift for tracking."

Eleazar looked thoughtful. "Yes, I presumed as much from Laurent's tales of his time with them. Although he didn't seem to be with them long. A few decades perhaps? A deadly combination those two gifts together would be, even for a group as large as yours."

"Well, fortunately they separated. James went to Phoenix and Victoria stayed in Forks. Edward, Emmett, Jasper, Carlisle, and Alice were able to take care of him in Phoenix. They might have not been so lucky if Victoria had gone with James."

The Denali's nodded solemnly.

"Do you think Victoria will come looking for you?" Tanya asked.

"With a group of our size, it would not be wise, but it is possible," I reluctantly assented.

"Perhaps we could ask Laurent his guess," Irina suggested.

"Yes, perhaps," I agreed.

Fortunately the conversation moved on and Bella was forgotten.

It didn't take long for the family to decide on Ithaca. Carlisle and Edward voted via a phone conference, and no news from Alice meant they had no objections.

While we waited for Carlisle to join us, I found myself alone ruminating once more. I knew my husband as well, if not sometimes, better than I knew myself. It took only a few sentence, a few choice statements for me to know that the rationale and mental constructs supporting Edward's choice were based in Carlisle's moral reasoning and compassion. Humans speak about doing the wrong thing for the right reasons. Carlisle's choice fitted that category perfectly, and I watched stunned as Edward attempted to repeat the same wrong thing. What my son was trying to say and to do I understood without words. He was trying to live up to Carlisle's model; except, the model was flawed.

As tempers had increased and my children had come dangerously close to ripping each other apart had not been the time to explain these things. Alice, who loved Bella like a sister already, had stood vehemently against Edward's request that we leave. She believed that Bella's future paths were either an early death or to become like us. I trusted Alice's visions implicitly; I trusted Alice. Nevertheless, I had never needed Alice's visions to know those were the only two options available to Bella. This reality was blatant once Edward had saved her from a van crushing her, if not from the first day they had met, because those were the only possibilities fate had handed me. History was repeating itself, except with Bella and Edward as the players rather than Carlisle and I. Bella would not be able to escape her fate no matter how much Carlisle or Edward might wish to think otherwise.

Jasper had also stood against leaving Bella, no doubt supporting his wife's love of Bella along with his dislike of the risk associated with leaving someone behind who knew our secret. By law, he had argued, we were responsible for her. Yet, there was something more there than even those two reasons. If I were a betting woman, I would have put money on the fact that Jasper trusted Alice's vision, despite everything, to keep them and us out of danger. Not once in the fifty-five years they had been with us had I ever witnessed anything but utter and complete faith in his wife's gift and trust in her judgement. His faith in her over-rode the fact that, unfortunately, he had been, somewhat, the catalyst for the very conversation dividing us. I had been grateful each time he had sent out the faux calmness generated from his gift helping us all keep our frustration, irritation, and fury in check. Without his influence, certainly, at least one of my children would have ended up in pieces that night.

My other two children had voted to do as Edward had requested. Rosalie had voted in agreement of Edward's plan because she disliked having a human in our life and the risk Bella inherently brought with her. These emotions, in light of recent events and Edward's words, overrode her previous refusals to move. She had been afraid for our family and thus herself, and, if I had to guess from some of her behaviours, probably a little jealous. Emmett's vote had been out of brotherly love and a desire to support Edward, not to mention that Emmett would go where Rosalie went, no matter his affection for Bella.

In the moment, when the decision had been made, my priority had been to ensure that each of my children saw the next day. Tempers had run high, and although they had never before hurt one another in anger, I was too much aware of how easily an argument could turn deadly given our natures. Yes, the decision had been voted upon, but nothing was set in stone. I hadn't been worried for my children individually, even Edward. No, my concern had been what they could do to one another, and the cost our family would pay if something serious were to happen.

No matter how my mind turned over the events, I could see the vote as little more than an exercise for Edward to publicly justify his actions and ensure Carlisle's support. Because, when it came to Edward, his natural tendency, when things got bigger than he could control, was to run. Thus, I was certain that once this crisis had settled that he would do just that. Consequently, the vote, indeterminate of the outcome, contained some risk of him coming to harm while he would be away from us. The facts were that he had fled from Carlisle and I years ago when it was only the three of us. He had survived then. He was an even more skilled fighter all these years later. I knew the likelihood of him running, and I still couldn't agree to leave Bella.

I would not sacrifice one child for another, especially given the fact that even though Edward ran, he always returned. No, Edward wasn't where the greatest risk lay. That was with Bella. Bella could easily be snuffed out of this world. I didn't want to consider the cost for that possibility. My only hope was that fate would protect her as it had me, but it had almost been too late on my part, not to mention the cost I had paid in between. I wouldn't wish the pain of what I went through my last years of being human on my worst enemy, so I certainly would not wish a similar cost to befall my daughter.

Ever since James, Edward had been too protective of Bella to the point that he had nearly smothered her. I knew this was in part due to the mating bond between them being new and in part due to Edward's personality and upbringing. He would defend those he loved with his life. I had watched time and time again the agony he went through to open his mind to the thoughts of those around us, so we could make sure our façade was believed. He suffered more than any of us at times and carried the secrets of hundreds of thousands of individuals. I knew the lengths my son would go to keep Bella safe and Bella was a particularly fragile human. Until Edward came home and asked us to leave Bella behind, I had believed that Edward, with our help, would keep her safe until Carlisle turned her. Not that Edward would want that for Bella, but the writing was on the wall and with Alice's vision it appeared to be only a matter of time.

As Edward had spoken, it was apparent that he could not be reasoned with. Sure, he had used logic and clear arguments, but he had fought dirty. He had used his gift as a telepath to leverage Carlisle's own beliefs regarding his choice to leave me, things never spoken, in order to wear Carlisle down and convince him to see things the way Edward wanted him to. Carlisle was a rare creature that could admit when he was wrong and change his mind. The arguments Edward used were more than that. They spoke to Carlisle's conviction that he had done the right thing by leaving me when I was sixteen, and Carlisle wasn't ready yet to see that he had made the wrong choice, even if, despite everything, we were together in the end.

When we went around the table and cast our votes it was the first time in the history of our marriage that I voted contrary to my husband. Customarily, I voted and he decided for us all, but each and every time we were on the same page, except this time. He had looked at me trying to understand why I had voted against us leaving Bella, but I could tell that he didn't comprehend. Perhaps his confusion was, in part, my own fault. We had talked little about the first time I had met him, when I was sixteen, and how our few hours together had impacted me in ways that I still cannot describe adequately. Since Carlisle saved me by venom, I have desired to live my life by letting the past stay in the past and being adaptable, having faith in our love, and following my heart, although I had not been able to completely do so until after 1931.

That night Carlisle had looked at me baffled, uncertain as to why I had voted no. He looked at Edward and chose to give Edward his request. I understood Carlisle's vote. It was a vote to allow Edward to do what he himself had chosen to do. He saw it as the noble choice then and he did in that moment. Carlisle and I had worked out in the end. Carlisle counted on the same outcome for Edward and Bella. However, Carlisle had failed to consider the cost that I had paid for that choice. In the moment of the vote, I had hoped that the cost wouldn't be too high for Bella, but I had a foreboding sense.

At the end of the last day that Carlisle and Edward were in Forks, according to Carlisle, Edward went to say his last goodbye to Bella, but did not return as he had told Carlisle he would. Edward ran, as I had predicted. Thus, when Carlisle arrived in Alaska he was glum and guilt-ridden, which our children had never witnessed before, and caused the whole home to be unusually tense. Alice called, in her usual optimism, informing us that she would find Edward. It was clear in her tone that she believed that bringing Edward home would improve the mood of the family. Thus, she and Jasper in tow tracked him down forcing him to join us in Ithaca.

My conclusion as we closed up our Alaska home was that perhaps, in retrospect, my silence hadn't been for the best.

When Alice arrived with Edward the mood of the house shifted from glum and worried to sour and touchy. It was like everyone was walking on eggshells. I had lived that life in my first marriage and wasn't keen to repeat it. Consequently, it was the tone of the home rather than Edward's actual behaviours that concerned me. We were all dependent upon each other in many ways, including emotionally, but something about this situation made me feel as if I were on high alert and I did not like it. I had to consciously remind myself that my first husband had not returned and the circumstances were not the same. Each time Jasper sent out his faux calm I allowed it to do its work.

Edward blamed himself, as I had suspected he would, for the events at Bella's birthday party as well as the mood of the family. His own grief and pain from leaving her obscured him from seeing that we all missed Bella in our own ways. His own sorrow and self-loathing consumed him. It prevented him from seeing beyond what he was inflicting in Jasper, and our own thoughts. I attempted to make his burden lighter by focusing on the task at hand and not allowing the strain between Carlisle and I or my grief of leaving Bella to enter into my mind, but sometimes my thoughts circled round to them. I was uncertain how much of these thoughts he was taking in, but I knew from the past that it made a difference.

Carlisle was frustrated with his incapacity to reach Edward, just as he had been unable to do so right before Edward had left us in 1927. Carlisle seemed to recognise that his family was falling apart and that he didn't know how to fix it. As a man, a father, a husband, and our family's leader he was failing and his lack of capacity to solve the problem only exasperated him, leading him to try harder to reach Edward. It didn't take long for Edward to run. His excuse was to hunt the vile creature that might harm Bella, Victoria, just in case.

After Edward left, I found myself behaving very much as I had after I had been turned. I sat on the ledge in the window of my room my legs tucked under, me my eyes watching the elements in the natural environment change, while mentally I was lost in my thoughts. With Edward in our household, I had not been able to drown in my own thoughts for so long. Perhaps it was a good thing, because my thoughts tended to contain the 'what ifs' when left to their own devices.

I thought about a great many things: about those early years, about the years when Edward had not been with Carlisle and I, about those first difficult years after Rosalie was changed, but before she found Emmett. But more than anything, I thought about how different things might have been if Carlisle had been more willing to follow his heart than his head all those years ago in 1911.

It had just turned December, so we would all be gathering together at the end of the month. I expected that Edward wouldn't show, when my dear Alice came up to spend time with me. She settled herself on the floor under my perch.

"Was it like this when Edward left before?" she immediately asked.

Looking at her carefully, I wondered what her question was all about.

She just sat there expectantly as if starting in the middle of her thought was perfectly acceptable.

"Yes and no," I finally answered. "Yes the house was morose, no because it was just Carlisle and I then."

It seemed that Jasper was also listening. Perhaps Alice knew that he needed to hear my answers.

Carlisle wouldn't be back for hours. He was managing how he knew best–fixing problems he could at work and going even longer between feeds. I understood why he was acting in these ways, so said nothing, but similar to the last time Edward had left, it caused me to feel very alone and helpless in my capacity to ease the pain my husband felt.

These weeks since Edward had left, Alice had been an incredible support, and I suspected this was one of her schemes to help me.

"Tell me about him before he ran away," she insisted.

So, I did.

Perhaps none of our children really understood the changes, both positive and negative, that being away from us had done for Edward. Alice might have seen Edward's actions in her visions, but even she wouldn't have comprehended the complete ramifications of what she had seen. I barely did. Perhaps she was looking for faith in my stories. After a little bit, it became apparent that hope was what Alice needed. She probably was feeling responsible in some way for how things were in our family. Whatever it was, eventually Jasper joined her in my room.

Thus, Alice and Jasper sat on the floor together while I remained on my favourite perch telling stories of the sweet, tender, considerate, thoughtful, yet innocent young man that had been Edward in those early years.

I came out of my memories when I heard the familiar sound of the Mercedes coming up the drive.

"Perhaps you'll tell more tomorrow?" Alice asked gently.

"Let us see," was all that I could promise her.

Shortly after they scattered, Carlisle came into our room.

"How was your day?" I asked my husband while I kept my eyes focused on the outside world.

"Nothing terribly gruesome," he answered.

He showered and changed coming over afterwards and holding me in his arms.

After the sun had risen and nearly reached its apex he said, "Alice and Jasper were in here today?"

I looked up at him wondering why he would ask. Unable to find a suitable answer I told him, "Yes, Alice asked for stories about Edward before his rebellious period." I seemed to be unable to rid myself of the monotone pitch in my voice that has plagued me since the table conference.

He nodded.

We needed no words. Nothing had changed since our conversation in Alaska.

We had gone out hunting together, as much as for privacy as anything else. Neither of us were the big predator hunters like our boys, so it never took very long to find something we were willing to drink. Afterwards, we had sat in the snow on the mountainside holding hands and enjoying the view.

"Talk to me," I had finally requested knowing that he was lost in his thoughts.

"I can't lose him," was all he had said with anguish enough for the both of us.

"We will not," I had replied mutedly.

"You can't be certain," had been his retort.

"I can feel it in my heart. I have faith." All my words came out even and dry.

"I feel like God doesn't hear my prayers," he had stated in humiliation and guilt.

"Is that because you're not getting the answer you want?" My question was as even and dry in tone as my statements had been.

I could feel the shock coming from him. Never before had I been so bold, nor had I ever before questioned his relationship with his God like this.

"Perhaps," had been all he said in a small sad voice.

He had been at his breaking point. He was becoming undone in that moment and my usually gentle, compassionate, hopeful husband was scared. It had not been the time to explain my reasons for voting as I had. My children needed him.

"We will be okay, Carlisle," I had promised him. "Your God didn't give you all of us to take it all away from you. You are worthy of His gifts. Edward is struggling and handling things in his own way. He will return. He is not lost to you."

He had nodded sadly, but I could tell that my words had done their trick; they had assuaged his worst fears. It wasn't a cure, but it was enough for the time being. For better or worse, all of our lives were irrevocable tied together.

The memory of this conversation played over and over as he held me until it was nearly time for him to return to the hospital. Both during that conversation in Alaska and while sitting on my perch, I wondered if I should have said more to Carlisle.

"Do you need me to stay?" he asked, as was now his habit.

I shook my head. "No, you go. Save those you can. I will be here when you return, Dr. Cullen."

Despite my lack of intonation, he knew he could trust my words. He nodded and went to get ready.

"I love you," he reminded me before he went out the door.

"And I you," I reminded him.

Eventually Jasper and Alice came back and I picked up where I had left off. After a few days of this routine there was nothing else to tell.

"He'll come back," Alice spoke authoritatively. "He's always come back," she stated, her tone firm.

She was right. I just wished I had her capacity to speak so assuredly. I turned to Jasper.

He appeared contemplative.

"How are you holding up?" I asked him as had become my custom.

"As well as can be expected" was his reply, as it had been each previous time I had asked.

"I hope I'm not adding to your burden," I told him sincerely.

I didn't want to imagine if my struggles were adding to his. A certain amount of that was unavoidable, but since he joined our family and became my third son, I had always attempted to be considerate of how I might unnecessarily burden him and often waited until he was out of the house to focus on how I was feeling.

He shook his head. "No more than anyone else."

I nodded. It was the best I could hope for in times like these.

Alice had been keeping a close eye on Edward. I never asked. She would let us know if she saw something worth sharing. I couldn't imagine the burden of her gift, seeing so many possible futures. I did not want to conceive of all the terrible possibilities she has seen before Edward would have talked himself out of it. So instead I looked over at her and smiled in a way that I hoped was comforting.

Maybe it was telling the stories of Edward before he left or perhaps the fact that I was free to think my thoughts without considering the burden they would have on Edward, I could not be certain. But with me on my perch and Jasper and Alice sitting on the floor quietly simply being with me, I began to imagine what Carlisle's life was like when he met me, and what would have happened if he had followed his heart just a little bit more.

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 _A/N: For readers interested in my version of the voting scene to leave Bella in Forks, it can be found in Chapter 1 of Cosmology Shifts, and is told from Alice's point of view._

 _So, I have to admit that I was very nervous about this story despite kiwihipp's incredible support. This AU might be described as a re-imagining of cannon, particularly because it goes so far back in time. It is the butterfly effect. Simultaneously, this is the first story I wrote focusing on Carlisle's or Esme's lived experiences. If that were not enough, this story contains content that reflects what it means to be married with children as apposed to being a teenager, which were my two previous stories. That all said, I would greatly appreciate to hear your thoughts. Your feedback helps me immensely and I greatly appreciate it.  
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 _I hope you enjoyed the first chapter.  
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	2. An In-Between Life

**The idea that Esme enjoys Sherlock Holmes stories comes from Miki In Blue Jean's story Faith & Love found here on FF, and the inspiration of the difficulty of a vampire seeing a live beating heart comes from Tale of Years: 1950 by Jessica314.**

Beta: The incredible and amazing _kiwihipp_ without whom this chapter would not look as is does _  
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(Updated 07 Nov 17)

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 **Chapter 2: An In-Between Life**

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By the time I was changed at twenty-three my father had already handed over the majority of the vicar responsibilities to me. He had refused to do so completely, until I had a successful persecution. Once my place was confirmed in the church and thus society, an eligible lady would have been found for me to marry. I had liked the idea of starting a family, but my plans and my hopes that had accompanied them had been destroyed with one bite. It was ironic that my actions to achieve my station had actually been the undoing of those very aspirations.

After realising what had happened, its implications, and then had found a way to live without taking a human life, I had vowed to never steal from someone what had been taken from me. I was law abiding, kept to myself, never made friends with humans, and took no interest in them beyond my role as a doctor. Any other way of living would have only endangered them and made my nomadic necessities harder on me. In so many ways, these choices reflected the man I had been before my transformation.

My tendency to care about others welfare above my own was just one of the qualities I had brought into my second life. Those qualities that tied me to my lost humanity I held onto tightly. Though something had crept into me over the last century so slowly that I had not noticed its presence until it had already taken a foothold with me–melancholy. My suspicion was that its presence was a result of my loneliness, a situation tricky to resolve, given my values and way of life. Since leaving Volturra, I had spent little time with others and as the decades had turned into centuries my isolation had begun to wear on me. Although I could name my ailment and even its cause, it was tricky to resolve, given my values and way of life.

All that changed in late 1911.

It had been a routine day, so, as had been my custom, I had finished up my shift, turned in my notes, and left my charges in good order. I had walked out the door only an hour past the working hour expected. Honestly, if they would have let me, and it would not have caused suspicion, I would have preferred to work through the day as well. There were numerous things I enjoyed about my work. First and foremost, it allowed me to fill my day. I had no idea what other single vampires did with the hours afforded to them, but lounging around seemed frightfully dull to me. Second, my work allowed me to make some good of my life. I liked that my hands and heightened senses aided in the healing in humans. Short lives or not, there was something sublime about making their years as pleasant as possible. And third, it engaged my mind in curious problems.

On my way to my bench, I had, once more, considered ways to combat my melancholy. Purchasing the equipment necessary to run my own experiments had been at the top of my list, but there had been two obstacles. One, I moved quite a bit, so it seemed a waste, as many experiments I wanted to run would not be at completion when it would be time to move on. Two, the equipment would require more space that I usually rented. Hopefully soon I would be able to live in a bigger city with a larger library collection, as that seemed a more likely possibility to keep my mind occupied than a lab. Maybe one day I could settle in a location longer. So much in my life had already changed since my turning, over the last two hundred years, that even this seemed possible. If I could become a doctor to humans, 'maybe one day' did not seem unreasonable. Thus my hope was not completely lost.

That particular day had been full of the beauty of fall. The leaves had been turning and the trees had been mostly still full of their vibrant reds, yellows, and oranges. I had gone to a park, which had become my pattern since I had started at this particular hospital, and had found the bench in which I customarily thought over my shift. No true emergencies had arisen in the past night. Sitting on my bench, I had repeated the prayer that I had spontaneously said the first time I had aided someone medically. As had become my habit, I listed all the names of my patients from the previous shift. Occasionally, I would add someone who had been discharged already, if the case was especially dire. Despite the words and intention of my prayers, they seemed flat in comparison to decades past. Although I meant the words, it was as if there were said insipidly. My bench was not the place for excessive self-contemplation, as the streets were beginning to fill. The sun was unlikely to show itself directly; nevertheless, I decided that it would be best to head over to the library.

Given the time on my hands, I had begun reading every non-fiction book the local library had in stock. When I had finished reading through those, I had started on the books in the fiction section. The librarian had gruffly commented that at my rate of consumption I was bound to have the whole library read. Little did she know that she was not far off, seeing as I had skipped all the books I had previously perused. The library was not that large in any case. Thus the temptation of a posting in a larger city for a larger collection, but I was not ready for that yet. Smaller hospitals tended to have moderately skilled doctors who were grateful for my skills and tended to overlook my oddities. Perhaps in a few more years, it would be worth the risk just for the library.

Standing in the stacks I had sighed frustrated at my impatience. After collecting my next book selections, I had made my way home. Probably, by most human standards, my place was not that nice. I had gotten it because it had no direct view of the sun, it was inexpensive, and it had no neighbours whom could see easily into my windows. Upon returning, I had sat down in the one chair in the single room that made up the space and began reading the book I had put aside yesterday. By the time it was getting near to my next shift I had finished that book and three more. I changed my clothes, checked my appearance before I left the house, and headed back to the hospital.

The hospital where I worked was not that bad, as they came. If the conversations I was not meant to overhear were to be believed, the most senior surgeon was annoyed at my knowledge and skills at my presumed age. This was no different than most hospitals, as the majority of senior staff assumed that my capacity as a doctor implied that I was interested in a more senior position than the one I had been hired for, which could not have been further than the truth. This was particularly so because the more senior positions were during the daytime, and for many reasons I preferred to work the night shift.

Upon my arrival the shift had started in its regular way. Each hospital had its own unique routine of how to move through the transition of its personnel. The way this hospital did it was not entirely poor. I had experienced worse. The doctor I had relieved had informed me that the hospital had not received any new patients in the last hour, so I started the shift by doing rounds greeting each of my charges already admitted and making sure nothing else could be done for them. My rounds had been nearly half complete when I had heard the cry of a male come into the hospital asking for help. Despite what I had just heard, I had to ignore it. It was one of the most difficult things to learn in order to work in the medical environment. I had finished up with the patient in front of me as the urgent footsteps of the duty nurse had come for me.

"Dr. Cullen?" she had called loudly when she had been near enough that a human would have heard her, while continuing to approach me.

After finishing my notes, I had turned to her. "Yes, Nurse Weaver?"

"You are needed, please."

"Certainly," I had told her replacing the clipboard to its designated location.

She immediately turned around confident that I would follow. Keeping two steps behind her, I had made noise with my shoes on the linoleum floor. We had entered the admitting area when I experienced something completely foreign. On the bed was the most beautiful creature I had ever had the fortune to lay my eyes on. She had long dark golden hair that might most apt be described as caramel with a slight curl. Even in this light white blond and strawberry red highlights could be seen. Her eyes were as blue as the Mediterranean Sea that, despite the pain, sparkled in a mischievous way that told of secrets she dared not share.

Standing there mesmerized, my body felt buoyant as if joy had been returned to me. Since the nurse had not even coughed yet, I had figured that the time elapsed must not have actually been that long as it had seemed to me. It was if my sense of time had slowed down from the moment my eyes had come upon her. A vague human memory surfaced of an eligible woman from my village who had similar coloured eyes that I had admired from afar. This young woman in front of me must have reminded me of her, which explained my initial reaction. I was grateful for the human memory this patient had given me, as well as its intrinsic link to my humanity. She had given me a rare gift.

Setting my temporary state aside, I turned to the man standing next to the patient, who had informed the duty nurse that he was her father, and asked, "What brings you in today?"

I would have most readily desired to address the young lady, but propriety in this era dictated that as a gentleman was in the room he would speak on her behalf.

"She broke her leg," he explained with a tone that contained an exasperated tiredness that I did not understand. "She fell out of a tree while reading," he added reluctantly as if admitting a sin.

Literacy, generally, had improved amid humans since my era, and, although I had read newspaper articles over the last half century encouraging literacy among females, it seemed from my vantage point that most young ladies knew little more than the basics. Even within the nursing staff, who were quite educated women, literary conversations were rare and, even all these centuries later, seemed reserved for the wealthier. Thus, I presumed that this young woman's reading habits had caused her family some sort of shame. What kind I could not imagine, unless it had to do with her doing so in a tree. Certainly, she was the first human I had encountered to have done so. Whatever the reason for her family's reaction, I suspected that this had ended her tree climbing days.

The young woman in front of me did not look abashed at the revealing of this information. If I had to guess, in fact, I would say she looked sad as if she was waiting for her dog to be put down. She was not even wincing. The combination struck me as brave and slightly brazen.

"Nurse, would you mind escorting Mr.?" I asked waiting patiently for him to fill in his name, as I was not meant to have known it yet.

"Platt," he filled in authoritatively.

"Platt," I repeated smiling kindly at them both, "to the waiting room."

Mr. Platt looked reluctant to leave.

"I promise to fetch you as soon as I have examined her and mended the break," I told him reassuringly.

He nodded curtly, and then walked out briskly.

Each time I had the opportunity to work had caused me to thank the Almighty for the honour of saving lives, but also for the diversion. Medicine was what allowed me to move through time. For at least these hours my mind would be engrossed in the here and now business of healing humans, although medicine's capacity to hold my attention had lessened as the decades had passed. Unfortunately, especially over the last hundred years, the cases had all begun to look like something I had seen before. Certainly the way medicine was practiced had changed a lot from mostly herbs to the increase of pharmaceuticals and there were always new things to learn. It was one of the things I loved about medicine. Nonetheless, the excitement and thrill I had once received from my role as doctor had decreased. Thus my occupation, which was once fulfilling, had lost its lustre adding to my melancholy and bringing with it sentiments that had hounded me in my early years, although the hopelessness that had plagued me then was, fortunately, not present.

At least on the night shift I stood some chance, no matter how small, that something complex or new might come in. The downside of a smaller hospital like this one was that it could be hours before an emergency arrived. Certainly wishing for humans to become injured or infirmed was wrong, so I tried to pass the time by thoroughly ensuring the welfare of admitted patients. Whether the shift contained thrills or not, I did my job and worked hard at making sure that senior surgeons forgot that I worked at their hospital. The shifts I preferred and the temporarily positions I filled limited me, but my schedule kept me out of the direct line of sight of anyone who might want to look at me too closely. Out of sight, out of mind the saying went. Therefore, instead of focusing on what I did not have and the melancholy that accompanied these thoughts, I forced myself to be grateful that I had been able to practice medicine at all.

My initial horror at being turned into the monster I had previously hunted lessened when I had discovered that my diet had given me the freedom to explore the advantages God had given me from my transformation without succumbing to the demon inside. In some moments the demon was harder to fight than others. Fortunately, God had continued to give me strength, and over the years my ability to keep the demon contained had increased. It was a generous gift from my heavenly Father, and one that took me into the in-between space of not human but also dissimilar to my own kind. As the strength within me to resist human blood had increased, so had my desire to have a companion, hence my increased thoughts of someone accompanying me through time and space, while also dwelling in this in-between alongside me. Each time the thought had come up I had dismissed it. I could not condemn someone to my life, not to mention that the thought of causing someone the pain of transformation purposefully shook me to my core. Despite my moral conviction, in my darkest moments, corners of my brain would be working on the possibilities. I did better to instead be grateful for what had brought me to today.

After a few decades of living in England and attempting to gain direction regarding what the Good Lord wanted from me and how I might serve His will, I had decided to leave my homeland. In Paris I had discovered the incredible institution of university and sat on rooftops or in nearby trees listening to lectures and learning. I had enjoyed the disciplines of philosophy and theology, but it was when I had listened in to a class on medicine that I had found my calling. I then had absorbed everything possible on human anatomy, biology, and chemistry. Libraries became my sanctuary. The more I had learned the more passion I had acquired. The hopelessness that had accompanied me in those early years was replaced by excitement, joy, and anticipation for the future.

Naturally, the greatest obstacle to my chosen profession was the necessity of mastering the demon that dwelt within. Never once could I allow myself the luxury of forgetting the temptation human blood brought. As my control grew and the call of human blood lessened, I grew in my belief that God had given me a chance at redemption while also giving me a good use of the years ahead of me. Fortunately, during those years in Paris testing myself around human blood was easy to come by, as Paris in the late 1600s was a violent and gruesome place. By the time that I believed myself to have enough information to not cause harm, and was, at minimum, able to be in the vicinity of bleeding humans, I began to explore other parts of Europe.

In Sweden I had been able to help a young boy who had an internal fracture. The lack of blood had made things easier. With intense concentration I had been able to put the bone into place and had made a splint that would God willing, one day, allow him a complete recovery. I had travelled when the cloud cover had allowed me learning languages and helping humans when it felt safe enough for me to do so. Eventually, I had found my way to Italy and had come across the Volturi. With their vast libraries, ancient scrolls, and company I had enjoyed my time with them and decades passed easily. Our only difference, my diet, eventually led to me leaving, although I was grateful for Aro's well-meaning intensions to convert me, as each one gave me an opportunity to practice controlling my bloodlust and over time I gained in confidence. As an added bonus, my chosen profession had allowed me to begin to earn money, which had opened up new opportunities and new experiences, although a new human memory was a first.

Turning my attention to my patient, I asked her, "So, Miss Platt, which leg did you break or did your reading manage to damage them both?"

At the same time, I heard Mr. Platt ask the nurse where the waiting room was and then inform her he would return shortly with his wife.

Miss Platt scowled at me in response to my question.

I fought a smile that threatened and managed to look at her sternly.

Usually my nature caused my patients to be a bit weary around me. Few had scowled and all of them males. Her response endeared her to me as it caused me to feel most like myself than I had with a human ever before.

Waiting patiently for her, she eventually dropped her eyes. "Just the one," she admitted her voice holding a tone of embarrassment.

Nodding I asked her, "Would you mind lifting your skirt to your knees please?"

While making the request I had pulled down the bed sheets. I was surprised to find her in no shoes.

"How old are you, Miss Platt?" I asked softly.

"Sixteen," she answered jutting out her chin. Once more her lack of fear startled me, but in an enjoyable way.

"Sixteen seems old enough to be wearing shoes. Did your parents take them?"

The teasing in my voice surprised me. I had never teased a patient like this before.

Miss Platt's cheeks became slightly pinker, only adding to her beauty, and then she looked down at her hands. "No." She frowned as if she were admitting a great crime. "I generally run around the farm and climb trees without shoes, much to the dismay of my mother."

"I see." I could not help a small smile from escaping.

Memories of the girls in the village in which I had grown up sprang to mind. Most of them ran around without shoes. Well, at least to a certain age. What an odd thing to remember at this moment. Even more surprising was that Miss Platt had given me not one but two human memories. I was indebted to her.

My mind returned to the last time I had visited my village. When I had decided to leave Volterra and travel to America, I first returned to my homeland collecting the few remaining possessions of my father's to add to his Bible that I always carried with me, and chose a boat that took longer than the direct ones, but would port every two weeks or so. At each port I had been able to find something to drink and even had attended to a few minor injuries on the ship. By the time I had arrived and had declared my occupation as a doctor to the American immigration officer, no one questioned my skills.

Once in America, initially, I had worked as a doctor's assistant, learned hospital protocols, and continued to master my bloodlust. By the time I had met Garrett in the surgery tent I was able to be around flowing blood for a few hours at a time. If the other doctors noticed my absences in between, they never mentioned anything. By the time of the Civil War I could go a day sometimes a bit more around flowing blood without the need to hunt. This experience strengthened my confidence and gave me the belief in my capable to work in the emergency ward, which I had learned was my favourite place in the hospital. It had not taken me long to discover the existence of the emergency ward night shift.

My acquired working schedule had quickly led to my custom of spending much of the day exploring the town in which I lived when cloud cover had permitted me. I would walk around, get books from the library, and generally learn my surroundings. Not that I ever stayed long, but this routine allowed me to make easier conversation with patients as well as my co-workers. In addition, it gave me a sense of being more a part of the place and time in which I lived. However, there were always the days when the sun shone and I was forced to stay in my lodgings. I also had learned quickly that fill-in temporary positions were a reasonable way for me to explain my mobility, never causing suspicion. In fact, I was due to leave this hospital in a week and already had my new placement set up. It would start in ten days giving me a leisurely three days to travel and find new accommodations.

It did not happen very often anymore, but, on a rare occasion, we would get an injury in which there was a profuse amount of blood. It burned my throat and I could feel my inner nature's desire to sample what lay before me. I had not yet once lost control in such a situation, but a few times, once the patient was mended as much as could be, I had needed to excuse myself in order to get some clean air. I was getting better as a surgeon. This pleased me, but often it was a strain on me. Once, thirty years ago, I had been asked to assist with repairing a bullet wound. For a moment a small hole through the chest cavity appeared and I was able to see the heart pumping. It had been necessary to go hunt directly afterwards, and I had called in sick for a few days. For weeks my mind had automatically visualized the organ in every human I met. Although it was difficult, I had been through similar trials, which reassured me that everything would get easier with enough time.

None of God's creatures could change their basic natures, but each held within it the capacity to overcome its baser instincts. Had that not been the more glorious aspect of my father's teachings? It had inspired me as a youth and it continued to do so. In reflection I was grateful for passing the test that beating heart had given me. It was the last time something had truly challenged me. Wishing for challenges was dangerous, so I worked to be grateful to God that He had given me the strength to do this work.

Miss Platt was not a challenge in that way, but my reaction to her had been strange. I had experienced the sensation of light headedness at the image of her reading in a tree barefoot, which was bizarre and contrary to what I had learned about vampire nature. As far as I knew, vampires could not be light headed, leaving me stumped and confused. It had been so many years that anything but gloominess had been my primary emotional state that I was overwhelmed. Rather than dwell on mysteries, I internally thanked the Almighty for the gift of new experiences and set my mind to the moment. As I did so, I went and checked her right leg and then the left.

"I agree with your assessment, Miss Platt. Just the one is broken. "Fortunately, it is a clean break. I will need to set it in place, so it will heal properly. That part will be quite painful. Then you will need bed rest while it heals."

"Mother will be terribly displeased." She smiled but her eyes looked worried.

"Pleased or not it will be doctor's orders." I attempted to smile warmly and reassuringly. "Are you ready to get the worst bit over?"

Her eyes hardened and her body stiffened. "Yes."

"Alright, let me get a nurse to assist," I let her know.

She let out a breath heavily as if she had been holding it.

Leaving Miss Platt, I went and found Nurse Weaver. "Your assistance is required, please Nurse."

"Yes sir," she replied.

From the beginning of my work in hospitals I had wished the nurses would be less subservient. Their job was just, if not at times more so, as vital as mine. I might be able to mend a few humans' bodies, but many things were simply out of my hands. The culture of hospitals was certainly one. My only hope was that it would change over time and their value would become more acknowledged.

We arrived back to Miss Platt with Nurse Weaver trailing behind.

"Miss Platt, Nurse Weaver here is going to hold you steady while I set the bone so that you do not accidently worsen things," I told her with authority.

She nodded and stiffened her body once more.

Nurse Weaver held her. I grabbed Miss Platt's calf with my right hand. A little vibration moved into my fingertips and down my arm to my elbow. It was the oddest sensation, one I had never felt before, but this was not the time to analyse it. I manoeuvred my left hand into position. A similar sensation happened when I touched her once more. Using my sense of touch, I felt for where the bone needed to go. As much as I hated to cause Miss Platt pain, there was no better way for the bone to heal.

I gave Nurse Weaver a meaningful look and she nodded that she was ready.

As quick as I could, without raising suspicion, I moved the bone back into place.

Miss Platt made a squealing sound, but it was muffled. I smelled blood. Looking at her, I noticed that she had bitten into her lip. Luckily the wound was already healing.

"Well done," Nurse Weaver commended Miss Platt before leaving to retrieve the items for a splint.

She did not seem to register Nurse Weaver's words.

"So what book were you reading that caused such a misadventure?" I whispered at a human level as a means of distraction.

"The History of Mr. Polly," she whispered back.

"Was it worth the fall?" I asked quietly.

"Any book is worth it," she answered assuredly.

"Do you have a favourite author?" I asked intrigued.

"It is hard to choose, but perhaps Jules Verne," she told me shyly.

It was a strange choice for a young woman. I wondered what about his books she liked so much. Instead I nodded my accord and imagined that if there had been books, apart from the Bible, in the village of my youth then I would have more likely been up a tree reading rather than minding my chores. The thought warmed me.

From the very beginning of my transformation, I had tried to not think too far into the future or dwell on what I had lost. From the moment of my awakening I had focused on what was presented to me. It was incredibly difficult to do so and an act of forced discipline. After enough practice, what came to matter was the moment. Not the past, as it could not be changed, and not the future, as it looked too bleak. I invested and saved and was prudent about my financial future, because it seemed wise knowing that the more funding I had stashed away made covering my tracks easier, if ever necessary. Money bought things including freedom and silence, even if I might be loathed to use it in this way. Fortunately such a case had never presented itself, but I was wise enough to know there might be a day when having more money than was reasonable would be useful.

Setting aside everything but the moment and ensuring that my mind stayed focused on the blessings Our Heavenly Father had given me that day became my way of navigating my world. In my last shift I had made a few human lives a little more comfortable. Such a thing was a gift afforded to few and one for which I was grateful. The Lord had graced me with blessings and a way to positively use what I was. It was an in-between life, but perhaps it was my punishment for my arrogance that I could defeat a true monster. Ironically, each time I defeated the demon within me a little bit more I realised that although I had not defeated my sire, I was defeating a monster of a kind.

Though Miss Platt's tree adventures had pleased me, mine was not an exciting life. I had never been much for excitement in my human life either. That thought caused me to smile. Perhaps my enjoyment of the quiet life had something to do with the fact that the last time that I had gone looking for excitement I had burned. I remembered clearly, despite the transformation, the excitement I had felt at possibly demonstrating to my father my worth and being able to gain the possibility of having a family. Through the years, I had often pondered if my sentiments reflected a true excitement regarding my actions or merely the possible rewards that they might have brought me.

Although I did enjoy these thoughts on my own nature and character, I might never know the answer. Psychoanalysis had fascinated me as soon as the first papers had been written on it. Jung's work particularly interested me for its spiritual elements that it added. The enlightenment era's rhetoric was thick and heavy in Paris when I had been there, and I could not help but agree that a being's mind was its most important instrument and to allow one's emotions to rule one's life only led to folly, and in my case, grave sin.

Looking at Miss Platt I could not help but recall the doctor who worked the previous shift's rush to get home, most likely due to him being a newlywed. He had hurriedly filled me in on my rounds and thanked me for the fact that he was able to leave on time and ran out the doors. It was an enjoyable sight to see, and I had been glad to aid him in this small measure of happiness in this inconsequential way. Nevertheless, my heart had tinged a little as I had wondered if I would ever be graced with a spouse.

In Italy I had learned that Aro and Caius both had wives and Marcus' wife was no longer, but it had given me hope that maybe one day love would be possible for me. There was no hurry. I enjoyed my work and my present lifestyle was not conducive for married life, but facts did not change my yearnings to have company. Consequently, the idea of being married often came to me in my loneliest moments. One of the many things I had learned in Voltura was that our kind only ever had one spouse for the entirety of our existence. Given our long lives, the knowledge pleased me and relieved me of many of the concerns that had lain hidden in the back of my mind. I had not come across many single females through the years, and often mused what would happen regarding diet when I met the one God had planned for me.

Aro and I had discussed the topic a few times. He believed that one of the signs that we had encountered our mate was that we changed to accommodate them. Admittedly, since he had shared that with me, I had been more than concerned that the woman for me would require me to join her in consuming human blood, but I had hope that God had in mind someone who would be willing to share my belief in the value of holding human life sacred. As usual when my mind wandered to such topics, I pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the task on hand. My working hours certainly were not the time or space to entertain such thoughts.

Nurse Weaver returned and we got to work. She held Miss Platt's leg in place while I secured the split.

"All right, it is all set," I announced upon its completion. Looking up Miss Platt was smiling at me. I smiled back tentatively. "Nurse Weaver, would you please inform Mr. and Mrs. Platt that the operation is complete."

"Yes, sir." And then she was gone.

I wrote my notes.

Her parents were on their way, but still out of human hearing range.

"I am sad to inform you Miss Platt that you will need to remain with us," I let her know.

"Oh?" she asked but her eyes sparkled and the edges of her mouth were creeping upwards like she was trying to hold in whatever was amusing her.

I nodded solemnly. "Yes. I will explain your treatment upon your parents' return."

She smiled. "That sounds just fine, thank you."

There was silence, but it was a companionable one. While we waited, I attempted to understand the strange occurrences that had happened.

Her parents walked back in without Nurse Weaver.

Putting my thoughts aside and turning to Mr. Platt I informed them once they had entered the curtains, "The bone is set, but it will need time to heal." Pausing I allowed that information to settle before continuing, "I would like to keep her here for a few days just to make sure it is healing correctly and there are no complications. When she does go home she will need to keep weight off of it for at least a month."

"A month?" her mother gasped.

Miss Platt had a look like, I told you so, clearly written in her features.

"Unfortunately so, Mrs. Platt. The bone will take time to mend, but by God's grace she will recover fully and be healed soon."

"Thank you, Doctor," Mr. Platt said and extended his hand to shake mine.

"You are welcome," I replied while shaking his hand in return.

"Yes, thank you Doctor," Mrs. Platt said almost at a whisper.

"You are sincerely welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Platt," I told them. "I will be back to check on her." Then I walked out of the room and returned to my rounds giving the Platts the semblance of privacy.

Oddly I felt colder as I walked away, as if Miss Platt was the sun and without her I was living in the dead of night. Certainly that could not possibly be the case, as vampires were not affected by temperature. Her similarities to my human life were creating a sense of familiarity that simply was not there. A gleefully reckless part of me wanted to consider the possibility that the familiarity might mean something more, but I refused myself the indulgence. If she were meant to signify something significant to me, then certainly I would feel more than coldness. Chelsea had described an unwillingness to let the man who became her mate go. At the same time Aro had tons of stories of vampires who believed a human to be his or her mate only to turn them and find that was not the case. I would not even remotely consider taking a healthy young woman's life over something so banal. I put the whole thought process out of my mind.

After completing the rounds that Miss Platt's arrival had interrupted and a few other jobs required of me, my feet took me back to Miss Platt's bed wishing, as I went, that there were some way to repay the gifts she had given me. Pulling the curtain to the side in order to maintain Miss Platt's honour and as was the custom of this hospital, I found her staring off with a contemplative look.

"How are you Miss Platt?" I asked softly mindful of the other patients.

"I am doing well, Doctor. Thank you for asking," she replied cordially, but appeared sad.

"Well, it is not everyday I get to treat a sixteen-year-old tree climber," I proclaimed quietly smiling at her hoping that she knew that I was teasing her.

She looks serious. "No, I suppose you do not. There are not many of us mystical creatures left," she asserted. There was a sweet bantering note to her tone. Then she winked at me.

Over the centuries women have winked at me. Usually, it is accompanied with a look of lust and wanting. Hers was not that type of wink. It was a playful teasing kind.

I shook my head at her choice of words. "I suspected as much. Then it is a great honour to meet, what must be, the last of a dying breed." And then I bowed unable to keep the smile off my face.

She giggled at me. It was the most glorious sound. It was if it came from the heavens.

"May I join you for my break?" I asked cordially.

"Please do, my dear sir. I would run out and fetch you some tea and biscuits, but sadly I am otherwise indisposed." She grinned that mischievous playful smile once more.

I looked into her eyes and was lost in the mystery that was Miss Platt.

She looked back to me. She did not shy away, look down, or become nervous.

I felt as if she had peered into my very soul.

A nurse cleared her throat. How had I missed her approach? Fortunately I was still standing at the end of the bed so Miss Platt's honour was intact and gossiping about this would hopefully be kept to a minimum. Ideally Nurse Kelly would assume that I was checking on Miss Platt in a professional manner.

"You are needed, Dr. Cullen," she told me.

Turning to her, I closed Miss Platt's curtain. "Lead on Nurse Kelly."

Following Nurse Kelly out, as she explained the information of the new arrival, I found it difficult to keep my mind from being distracted by Miss Platt. Hours had passed before I was no longer needed. Upon returning to Miss Platt, all her vitals indicated that she was asleep. Nevertheless, curiosity got the best of me and to get a better look than was possible looking through the curtains, I moved them aside just enough to peek in. She was partially sitting, no doubt due to the splint. Her hands were in her lap with her face tilted to the side. For all intents and purposes she looked like she had fallen asleep reading a book, but without the book. It was an endearing sight.

I experienced an emotion I could not name. The closest analogy I could come up with was the sense that my heart had swelled, despite me knowing that it was anatomically impossible. I had this strange desire to run my finger down her temple to her jaw line and to hold her hand. This was neither the time nor place to analyze these thoughts or feelings, so I turned around and went back to work. An hour before the day shift doctor was to arrive I visited Miss Platt once more, but she was still resting.

After my shift, I went to my bench as usual and said my prayers as usual, but I was unable to focus on any of my new patients apart from Miss Platt. Vague recollections from my human life of a young lady from my village that I had been enamoured with kept appearing. During one of our discussions, Aro had commented that I remembered my human life more than most and questioned if this might have been as a result of my diet choice. I had told him that I honestly was uncertain, but our conversation had left me pondering as to why I was unique in this way. As the sun rose behind the clouds my brain attempted to puzzle out how my memory was being triggered by Miss Platt.

When I had returned to my village, before coming to America, I had found my marker in the village graveyard. It had made no mention of being a husband or father. That small bit of information had assured me that my lack of memories of a significant relationship or children was accurate. I was grateful that I had not left behind abandoned children. At the same time, sitting on my bench unable to leave Miss Platt mentally behind in the hospital, I wished that I could remember more. Why I had been enthralled with this young lady of my memory? In the memories there was a longing for her and so a small sense of loss, which was as equally strange as the fact that Miss Platt had triggered them at all.

As I reviewed my behaviour with Miss Platt, I became aware that I was just as captivated with Miss Platt as I had been with this unnamed woman from my village. However, in this case, Miss Platt was human and I was not. It was an inappropriate pairing. My vow ruled out any possibility of a courtship. Had God sent her to test me in some way? Was she an answer to my prayers? The most grievous of elements was that she was merely sixteen-years-old. Sure, by all human accounts of this era she was a woman of marrying age, but in my time she would not have been expected to marry for another three to four years. Not to mention that from my vantage point of over two hundred years watching humans develop, sixteen seemed too young to begin starting a family no matter how common the practice.

She had so much of her human life ahead of her. Assuredly any interest on my part would derail her from those opportunities. A part of me wanted to reject this line of thinking and be more selfish, but it simply was not in my character. Perhaps this was a temptation sent by the devil. If so, it was a poor attempt, as logic, not to mention my moral code, had kept me righteous, as much was possible, all these years. They would not fail me. The proper course of action was to make her life as pleasant as I could, thank the Heavens for the gifts she had afforded me, and send her on her way.

With my decision made, I walked over to the library. As I was perusing, I could not help but think of Miss Platt in bed with naught to read, which would seem frightfully dull to me. I could not imagine that a tree-climber would enjoy sitting in bed all day. I debated with myself the impropriety, if there was any, of giving Miss Platt this small token. It seemed to me that if it was given anonymously, then no inappropriate assumptions could be made by either the nursing staff or Miss Platt, while allowing me some small way of repaying her. I wanted to take my selections to her straight away, but knew that I would need to do so secretly. So, I decided to do something very uncharacteristic. I sneaked into the hospital and waited until she was in need of the facilities. When no one was watching I silently slipped into her bed area and left the books on top of the night stand. Pleased that I had been able to improve her stay in this small way, I went home.

Although I was not really thirsty, my unusual behaviour inclined me to hunt as a precaution. Upon returning home I bathed and changed my clothes for the next shift. Six more shifts including tonight and then I would be leaving for my next placement. Despite my decision regarding Miss Platt, I was unable to keep her far from my thoughts. The words on the page could not hold my attention. It was a challenge, but eventually I focused on the task at hand until it was time to leave for the hospital. To my surprise I found myself humming on the way. At first I did not recognise the tune. After some internal searching I realized that it was an old hymnal sung frequently in my father's church. I had not even known that I had remembered the tune. Just one more thing Miss Platt had given me.

Once in the hospital, it was easier to give my attention to the task at hand. I started my rounds greeting each patient, checking on aliments, and ensuring their comfort for the time being making sure that Miss Platt was at the end of my list. I was interrupted three times by incoming emergencies, so it was nearly ten in the evening by the time I moved aside the curtain into Miss Platt's space. Once my eyes caught her fully with no hindrances, I stared. She was sitting in the bed much how I had seen her asleep; only, she had one of the library books in her hand.

"Good evening, Miss Platt," I greeted.

She looked up in surprise, her eyes large. She looked happy.

After a intake of breath she greeted me, "Good evening, Dr. Cullen." She smiled. "Would you believe that the most incredible stories magically appeared on my bedside table today?"

"Hmm," I replied as if carefully considering a reply. "Must be some of the magical powers you possess. Did you conjure up anything good?" I asked attempting to hold my face stoically.

"Well," she started and then paused evaluating me, "honestly, I did not get very far with the collection of Shakespeare; too dramatic. Not my style at all. The history of Europe was interesting. I especially enjoyed looking at the different pictures and seeing the different buildings. Right now I am engrossed in Sherlock Holmes. I am enjoying him immensely."

Her face was so expressive. She had been truly unimpressed if not repelled by Shakespeare. Her eyes were sparking with pleasure as she spoke about buildings, while she had a serious face regarding Holmes like she was trying to solve a mystery, which I suppose she had been doing. I could have looked at her expressions all day.

"Do you mind?" I asked while I waved my hand towards the chair.

"No, please," she responded assuredly but with bashfulness.

I sat mindfully to ensure that no nurse found me in such a position. The town was small enough that hospital gossip could tarnish Miss Platt's reputation. Why interactions between in sexes had become more censored over the centuries was beyond my understanding, but perhaps it would swing the other way over the next centuries. Only God knew.

"I am curious," I began and then paused making sure that questioning her would not offend her before continuing, "what about the buildings interested you?"

Her eyes darted around the space as if she was concerned to voice her response.

I waited joyfully enjoying watching her.

"Well … truthfully?" she hedged talking slowly.

"Naturally; anything less that total honesty is just dull." I smiled at her.

"Indeed." She took a breath through her nose that moved her shoulders and chest, looked at me wearily, and then exhaled. "Well," she paused as if reconsidering what she was going to say. "In truthfulness, I enjoyed the make of buildings, how the structure interacts with its surrounding, and the use of light. I also enjoyed the art of the building. The decorations used around the windows or on the top of the doors particularly interested me. If such a thing were possible, I would go study it at a college." Her last statement was made with such earnestness, yet such sorrow.

It pained me to hear her voice such pain, even if it was over a wish.

"What are your obstacles to doing just that?" I asked.

I guessed at a few, but was aware of the fact that there might have been some that I would not have considered. Many things changed in the human world that I was not aware of, even though I attempted to keep myself abreast.

"I am a girl." She made this statement authoritatively, and as if it was the answer to this question and every question I might want to ask in the future.

"I was aware of that, Miss Platt," I said in a soft teasing tone. "I am a doctor after all." I smiled hopefully in a reassuring way.

Her eyes narrowed and she looked at me in an evaluative fashion. "Dr. Cullen, perhaps you are not aware, but girls are not allowed to study those subjects."

Despite the fact that I had guessed that might be the case, the reality of it seemed like a blow. I knew girls were restricted professionally, but before I had never considered the true injustice of her culture's gender expectations and limitations. My memories included no references in order to judge the village in which I had been raised in terms of roles and responsibilities divided by gender, but there must have been some. How I saw the human world all these years later was simple. She was being refused to do something that pleased her solely because of her gender. I had heard the arguments for confining women's professions ever since the idea of a profession was made. I had never agreed or really understood these arguments, but before this moment they had been human arguments made to govern human behaviours, something I had let pass by me as I had the years.

"There is not an exception?" I questioned my face haven fallen due to my thoughts.

She shook her head and I could smell her eyes filling with water. "No. Maybe my daughter could, but it is simply not an option for me."

A small smile lifted my lips at her optimism. She sounded so sure the world would change and her hope that this might be altered in the future inspired me. I had seen many things change. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this would too.

"Since I cannot do that, I entertained the idea of going to college to become an art teacher. It would not be as exciting, but it would be something."

I smiled genuinely. "I imagine you to be a wonderful teacher."

"Thank you." She looked at me calmly, but she must have been somewhat nervous as she had put the book down and had entangled her hands together.

"You are welcome, Miss Platt."

She smiled, but there was disappointment still there.

"Shall you, then, be heading to college to study to be an art teacher?" I asked after moments of silence.

"No, I do not think so."

This time her chin was on her chest and she was pressing her hands together firmly. For all intents it seemed as if she were holding herself in a stoic manner. Memories came to me of me doing something similar in conversations with my father when he had rejected me pursuing any interest except to follow in his place in the church. Perhaps unconsciously I had seen something of my human life in this young woman.

"Oh," was all I knew to say.

Prying seemed rude and, based on my own memories, continuing this topic seemed cruel. Not for the first time, I stopped for a moment and thanked my Creator for the gift of being a doctor and that I had been able to do something with myself other than be a vicar.

Miss Platt took in a deep breath and talked into her shirt. "My parents think that higher education is wasted on a girl. They are hoping for me to find a suitor soon, preferable one willing and able to take over the farm as I am their only child."

I was honoured that she would confide something so intimate with me. Simultaneously, I understood the weight in her words–the familial obligation–that I was only freed from upon my removal from humanity. In this simple statement it was obvious that that she loved her parents very much and did not wish to disappoint them. I knew that feeling quite well. It endeared me to her even more than I already was, while it also caused me to wish that I knew a way to free her so she could take flight.

In the midst of my wishful thinking I could hear a nurse moving in our direction. I stood and silently put the chair back.

"Glad to hear you are healing as you should, Miss Platt. It seems to me that you have found a productive means in which to occupy your time during your stay here and it is doing you well. If you need anything, do not hesitate to search out a nurse and ask her for assistance."

She looked at me confused.

Right then Nurse McCarthy entered the ward.

Miss Platt's eyes widened and an understanding appeared. "Yes. Thank you, Dr. Cullen. I will be sure to do that," she told me composing her features quickly.

I winked at her as a way of thanking her for her propriety and then turned to face the nurse.

"You are needed Dr. Cullen."

"Certainly, Nurse McCarthy."

I closed the curtain behind me and continued my shift. Any moment that could be spared I went over to Miss Platt's ward and listened to her sleep while writing my notes. Her sounds of life were exquisite in a way that compared to no other human I had encountered prior. The end of my shift came too early. Miss Platt was still sleeping as I made my way out of the building and over to my usual bench.

If I were to be truthful to myself, I would have to admit that my affection for Miss Platt had only grown. Tomorrow would be my last opportunity to speak with her. My intent to stay out of her life had not altered. However, there was a part of me that yearned to have just a little bit more time with her, and I had not properly repaid her. I had no right to interfere with her affairs. We were strangers, but I did not want us to be. Certainly a friendship with Miss Platt was in poor taste. A woman might have a childhood friend of the opposite gender, but the present human standards for Miss Platt stated that a friendship between us could impact her eligibility to marry and potentially lead her on. Then there was the worst of all potential risks to consider–it could potentially expose some element of my nature. I reasoned to myself all the rational and logical explanations as to why anything beyond our relationship as patient and doctor was preferred for both parties.

The one image that stopped me dismissing my irrational desires entirely was the resigned look she wore when she explained that college was not an option for her irrelevant of her dreams. It was hard to let that go when I had the financial resources available. More than anything, I wanted to see her happy. It was the least I could do for what she had given me. From our conversation it seemed that she really wanted to go to college. However, there were many problems with that desire, particularly her parents, her gender, and her age, in that order. She was sixteen. Her father had full rights over her until she was wed and then those would pass to her husband.

I was at a crossroads. The two possible paths were simple. One, leave my position and Miss Platt as planned, as I had time and time again, allow my patients, her included, to go on with their lives while I prayed that I had made at least some small positive difference. Two, inform Miss Platt of my desire to aid her in going to college. The first option was more rational, more reasonable. There were a plethora of reasons why option one was best, including keeping the law. I had seen what the Volturi did to lawbreakers. Not to mention that I considered myself an honourable man. If she remained in my life in some way there was a chance, with enough time, that she could discover that I was not human and thereby the law would be broken.

It was just too risky. Too much was at stake. Her life and living it was more important than me staying in her life, even if my presence might mean that she got to go to college. The problem was that I had grown attached, and my heart was not so keen on option number one. If I chose option two and the law were ever to be broken, ideally, I would want to give her the option of her death or being changed. That was a conversation I wanted to avoid at all costs. The only other choice would be to act on her behalf. Killing her outright was barbaric and unacceptable, which left biting her. That presented another problem. Although I knew the semantics, I was not sure if I could create another vampire without killing the individual. Then there was the fact that I had never tasted human blood and I was afraid of what might happen if I did allow it past my lips. The risks in option two were too great. I would not rob her of her future.

Ultimately, therefore, to keep her human and alive prevented me from being in her life. How I wished that things were simpler like I remember my village being. Living a life of lies did not suit me, even if it was required. Option two was dirty and messy and fraught with peril. I did not like option two, any more than option one. My heart was not easily convinced and was searching desperately to find an alternative, thereby creating an option three, without which I was stuck.


	3. Crossroads

Beta: The incredible and amazing _kiwihipp_

(Updated 16 Nov 17)

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 **Chapter 3: Crossroads  
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I had been unable to stay at my bench and pray as I usually did. It took me all of a handful of minutes to realize that my thoughts had the potential to allow me to forget to behave humanly. Slowly and with focus on my surroundings, as to distract myself from my thoughts, I stood up and walked home not bothering with the library at all. All of the remaining morning and most of the afternoon passed with me sitting in my favourite reading chair statuesque warring internally. The emotions that Miss Platt inspired within me were in conflict with my morals. Eventually when my thoughts seemed increasingly repetitive I brought out my father's Bible. Seeing that I needed wisdom Proverbs seemed like a good place to start. With purpose, I read each verse slowly trying to digest and understand what each word might say about my present situation often calling up what I had learned over the years regarding ancient Hebrew and interpretations. Feeling none the more wiser when the time of day came requiring that I arise from my chair I, nonetheless, got ready for work. If nothing else, what my readings had done was remind me to have faith. The answer would come.

The distraction work provided was particularly appreciated. Despite the lateness in which the day staff doctor went over the cases, there were fewer patients and less walk-ins than last night, allowing me to enter Miss Platt's private space at half past eight. My uncanny excitement at the prospect of visiting her and that she enticed me more than my work unnerved me. Nonetheless, given the ever approaching moment of her discharge, I allowed myself this indulgence.

"Well good evening there, Dr. Cullen," she greeted me as soon as my hand began to pull back the curtain.

Unsure what to make of her greeting I smiled shyly.

"Good evening, Miss Platt. How are we feeling this fine evening?" I replied completing my movement of pushing the curtain aside.

She smiled like I had spoken some inside joke.

"I am well thanks to you. The earlier doctor tells me that I have healed enough to return to my home tomorrow when my parents are able to retrieve me."

Feeling sad I smiled nonetheless. After a few seconds of reflection it dawned on me that even though I had spent, what amounted to less than an hour, in her awakened presence, I disliked the idea of not having more time to speak with her.

Although, due to hospital protocols, I had been aware of these facts yesterday, it seemed improper to point that out to her. Instead I replied cordially, "I am glad to hear that you are well enough to return home," unsure of how to resolve my new awareness.

Her eyes became downcast. She began mumbling, her lips barely moving. " … mother says … it would not be very lady-like … to lose …"

I merely stood patiently waiting for whatever struggle she was going through to be completed attempting to make out her words, even though I was fairly certain they were not meant to be heard.

Finally she looked up at me with sadness and fear in her eyes, while her cheeks had increased in blood flow slightly, giving them a blush pink appearance. "Well," she started and then paused, "you see," she began once more and again faltered, "Dr. Cullen," she stated her voice cracking slightly from nerves, I suspected, and then paused speaking. "Um, I was wondering," she said calmly enough, but then stopped once more. "Well," she sputtered, "if you would be willing to come and inquire about me in my home in a few days time?" She said the last part in such a rush that the sentence crammed together as if it were one word.

Mentally I replayed her whole attempt slowing the last part down. On my second review her intent hit me. The two paths I had been debating upon all day were once again upon me. On the left I could follow what was obviously the most rational choice. On the right I could follow my yearnings to spend more time with her. Like a flash I saw the road the rational choice would take me: more of the same. It was certainly the safer choice–for both of us.

Then, for a moment, the lesson regarding faith from my scripture readings came to me. Was that what God was trying to tell me? That I needed to have faith? What would that look like in this situation? Dismissing the notion nearly as soon as it had arisen, I concluded easily that this was not a moment for faith. This was a moment for rational thought. This was why I had become a scientist and not a theologian. The logical choice had never led me astray before. It would not in this situation either.

Opening my mouth to politely decline, I felt as if my chest began to ache. "I am not sure that is a good idea, Miss Platt. Although I have enjoyed our conversations, I am finishing up my position shortly and am scheduled to start a new one far away in merely five days," I explained making my voice soft and kind.

As the words began to exit my mouth, I could smell the salty liquid indicating tears had begun to pool in her eyes. She must have received my words, despite my intention and my tone, as a rejection. Her mumblings made more sense now. She must have believed herself to have taken a huge risk to be so forward. My recollections indicated that women had not been expected to be so reserved in my village. Scolding myself, I recalled the constraints put on women in this era and culture. Sufficiently admonished, I felt the need to ease the inadvertent blow I had given her somehow.

"Even if I was not leaving town, Miss Platt, I will not be here tomorrow when your father arrives in order to garnish his permission to call upon you," I told her in the same soft and kind tone I had used before, hoping my words would ease any personal affront she might have felt.

She stared at me as if the reminders of her restrictions irritated her. "I would dare say my mother would be glad for me to have any male callers at all, Father's permission or not," she mumbled under her breath.

It was as if she held a magical formula; each statement she spoke brought me back to my crossroads asking me, once more, to look at the evidence. It was agonizing. The gifts she had given me indebted me to her, while at the same time my need to do what was right pulled at me with great force. The phrase 'pride comes before a fall' came to mind, but seemed inapplicable. Certainly my refusal to give into my selfish desire to hold onto the emotions she stirred within me and thus condemn her was not pride. At a loss I stood at the end of her bed trying to figure out what to say, since I was not supposed to have heard her, while the familiar footsteps of Nurse Weaver approached.

"Well, Miss Platt, I am glad to hear that this will be your last night here. Good night."

Turning, I exited closing the curtain behind me.

"Good night, Dr. Cullen," I heard her whisper as I walked away.

Naturally, I ran into Nurse Weaver looking for me.

"Oh, good, are your rounds complete, Dr. Cullen?"

I nodded in the affirmative.

"We just had an emergency come in: a serious injury needing surgery. Are you available to take the case?" she enquired as we walked towards the emergency ward.

"Of course, Nurse Weaver," I told her in the formal tone I had learned was expected to speak with the nursing staff regarding these matters.

Hours later the poor man who had been nearly trampled to death by a horse should live to see another day. With my capacities I was able to find and close the wounds to his veins, realign his bones, and sew him completely up. He would probably have a limp for the rest of his life, but it was the best outcome considering the condition in which he arrived. Although I had managed to place my complete focus on the task on hand while I had worked on him, as soon as I discarded my outer garments meant for surgery and had washed away this man's blood and scent from my hands, my thoughts wandered back to Miss Platt.

Being obliged a break, which most doctor's used to take a smoke, no one would come looking for me for about ten minutes. I entered Miss Platt's bed space to find her asleep with a book resting in her lap. Carefully I removed the book placing a piece of paper that had been on the side table between the open pages as a bookmark. Inserting the paper scrap, I noticed a note in what I presumed to be her handwriting.

 _Dear Dr. Cullen,_

 _In case you change you mind and have the courage to ask my father when you arrive, I can be found at North Willow Lane five miles in the south-westerly direction._

 _Kindly,_

 _Miss Esme Platt_

Esme; it was like a whisper of unspoken things. Her file said Esme, but it was different seeing it written in her own hand. This was not medically related. She was sharing a part of herself voluntarily with me, and politely inviting me into this intimate part of her life. The last time someone had been so generous personally, without ulterior motives, might have been Aro or Demetri, or perhaps Garrett. With Garrett, however, there had been some involuntary elements on his part due to the circumstance that bonded us, simply because I had promised to keep quiet. Miss Platt was certainly the first female in my existence to have done so. The only motives I could presume that Miss Platt might have was that she was offering friendship or desiring a courtship. Either of those possibilities, once again, brought me to my crossroads. I tucked the paper between the pages, decided to check in on my other charges in case they had woken, and with great effort put her note along with its implications out of my mind.

At the end of my shift I could hear that Miss Platt was awake, but cowardly headed straight out, going back to my bench, concerned that seeing her again might cause me to act in an irrational manner. I could not fathom what my disquiet might manifest as; nonetheless avoiding even the possibility of such action seemed wise. Reflecting over my interactions with Miss Platt was less than helpful. The elements of my crossroads were the same. Nothing had changed, except the pull in my heart that asked me to consider the less rational choice. She would be discharged; of this there was no doubt. My life was lonely, which had affected my overall mood, I could admit, but I had possibly saved a man's life last night. That had to account for something. Although I could not deny the gifts she had given me, the obvious conclusion was that it would be better for us both when things went back to how they had been before meeting her.

After a few hours I walked to the library, but it did not hold the same appeal. Taking a few books perfunctory, I walked towards home. Perhaps a hunt would help, I reasoned. Once home I placed the books mechanically on a table and walked the miles it took to enter the forest without any notice of my surroundings. As soon as I stood in the midst of the woods the dazed-typed state I had been in dissipated. Stilling myself completely, I took in a deep breath listening to all the wondrous sounds of God's amazing creation. Eventually I smelled a fox on the breeze. Tracking it, taking my time, as I was not in a rush, knowing that I would not be able to read today anyway.

When my prey was within sight I watched in admiration as it went along in its business of being a fox. Offering a silent word of thanks for God's provision, making sure to not alert the creature to my presence, I pounced, broke its neck in one motion, and drank. Foxes were not large, but they were in abundance and a nuisance to the local farmers. I liked to think that my hunting habits helped these humans that provided needed sustenance for their fellow man in some way. When I finished draining and burying the fox, I decided to hunt for one more as the process had calmed my thoughts.

Upon returning home I had just enough time to bathe thoroughly ridding myself of any evidence of hunting before heading off to the hospital. I completed my last days in an almost monotone fashion. To my surprise I missed Miss Platt. Every morning, since her release, at my bench I reassessed my decision. Nothing had changed. The equation was the same every time. At the end of my last shift the head surgeon asked to see me. Appreciation was extended and I mentioned that I might ask for a reference in the future. Reassurances were given. I handed in everything that belonged to the hospital and left for the last time.

Heading home I boxed up everything. As was my custom, I sent all but two bags ahead by post. The postal service was useful, but unreliable, thus my need to keep enough clothes with me for at least the first week. As my custom, I planned on spending some time hunting preferring to arrive somewhere new as satiated as possible, since what I would be arriving to was unknown. At some hospitals my appearance had been greeted with four days straight shifts, other places requested only a few hours work during the first few days, thus my preparation preferences.

The day before needing to leave my present location I found my feet taking me in the direction of Mr. and Mrs. Platt's residence. It was a fine cloudy day. The perfect day for a contemplative stroll. I stopped at a crossroads. The left road looped round and ended up near my home, or I could veer right taking me closer to the address that Miss Platt had provided.

Could I be a man of science and have faith? Modern science seemed to almost scorn faith. The scientist in me wanted to go left. The young man in me who saw the good that his father's faith had done in our parish urged me to follow my heart just a little and go right. The right path held the same excitement that had resulted in my transformation. There was something risky and dangerous about it and asked me to place my future into the unknown. My rational mind was against anything risky in that way. Last time it had not ended up so great for me, despite all the blessings God had given me.

Nothing would change that I was a rational being. My decision was already made; it was the most logical, as well as moral, one. Sad, but confident in the knowledge that this was the best choice for both of us I went to go left. At the last second my feet turned and went right. Such a thing had never happened before. There was no distinction between the vampire mind and body. What the mind decided the body did. This simple deviant movement was extraordinarily strange. Despite it being contrary to my choice, I took it as a sign from the Almighty, and spent the remaining journey praying fervently that wisdom of what to do next would come to me, hoping that I was making the right choice by not turning around.

A sensation, not terribly unlike what I remember feeling before I had found that coven in the sewers, began to fill me. I was in uncharted territory with no idea of what words to speak upon my arrival. To combat my nerves I began to contemplate every scenario that I might encounter and then create the most appropriate human response. It did not take long for me to become aware of how little I knew about human social interactions outside the hospital and fundraisers. For instance, I knew practically nothing of how modern gentlemen called upon young ladies. I was completely out of my depth and, if I was honest, scared. Travelling the road I began laughing at myself. For the first time since meeting the Volturi, I was apprehensive, not for what I might do, but for what might happen to me. At least I could say that there was no melancholy in me. This adventure seemed to have cured me of it.

My sentiments in comparison to reality seemed ironic. Certainly the Platts could not hurt me, and if I were a more traditional vampire, the most likely course of action, if they displeased me, would be to simply take their blood. I shuddered at how easily my kind took sentient life. Certainly my nerves had nothing to do with being concerned of physical harm, as they had in Volterra, and I was confident that they would never suspect my nature. No, what had me anxious was much more basic: fear of rejection. Without a doubt, refutation was unpleasant. However, in this case, I reminded myself repeatedly, Mr. Platt sending me away would actually be the best outcome for many reasons, least of which was that him doing so would give me a clear answer to my prayers for direction and guidance. In the midst of my unease was many other emotions, and the actualized experience of so much feeling coursing through me was exhilarating, despite most of these sentiments being disagreeable. I had not felt so engaged in my world in decades, if not greater than a century.

I choose to trust that the Good Lord would keep me on the righteous side of the law and give me the words I needed. The simple act of following my heart in this small way had enhanced my faith causing me to smile. Perhaps taking some risk was worth the new opportunities for growth that it contained. As I walked and prayed, my fear turned into trepidation. Apprehension had been a near constant companion of mine when I lived in Volterra, as I was neither of the coven, of the guard, agreeable to their ways, nor knowledgeable about etiquette protocols when I had first arrived. Easily, Aro could have ended me upon that first meeting. Instead, over time, we became friends and grew to appreciate each other's opinions, not to mention that he had been unnecessarily kind and hospitable during my time there. If I could manage Volterra, I could manage three humans. My memories and the confidence boost they gave me were welcomed. It was a few hours past midday when I found North Willow Lane. Turning onto the lane I came across a house that had the slightest tinge of Miss Platt's scent in the air.

Turning into the driveway I walked down the dirt path leading to their home. I might have wanted to paid attention to the scenery, but I heeded it little. Instead my mind was consumed with what lay ahead. Consequently, I also gave the details of the house scant awareness. Upon reflection I could say that there was a garden and a porch, which required three steps to climb. What did hold my attention was that on the porch were wooden chairs and in one chair with a book in her hand was Miss Platt.

For much longer than was suitable I stared at her unsure of what to do next. She acted as if she had not noticed my approach. Most likely, I had been too quiet, as I had not paid great attention to myself in that way. The other possibility was that she had been too engrossed in the page to hear me. Minutes continued to pass as I attempted to reason out what to do. Eventually I resolved my deliberations by clearing my throat.

She ventured her eyes up and a genuine look of surprise and pleasure grew on her face. "Oh! Dr. Cullen, I am ever so glad that you were able to call on me," she exclaimed smiling ear to ear while her eyes twinkled.

Never could I recall receiving such a warm welcome. It unsettled me. Finally I collected myself enough to asked cordially intending to hide the emotional turmoil that had accompanied me here. "Is your father in, Miss Platt?"

Her smiled faded a little. "No, but my mother is in the house. Knock loudly and she is bound to hear you." She was nearly frowning by this point. "Probably on her way, already," she grumbled too softly to be heard by human ears.

Giving Miss Platt one more glance, I turned towards the door. Mrs. Platt was already on the way, but propriety dictated that I knock.

When Mrs. Platt opened the door she smiled warmly, but there was cunningness in the look of her eyes that I found disconcerting.

"Good afternoon Mrs. Platt. If it begs your pardon, I came to call upon Miss Platt." My tone and manner of speech reminded me more of my English upbringing than the American accent I had tried hard over the years to acquire.

She looked at me as if judging my worth. After a few moments she asked, "You that doctor that treated our Esme in the city?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied.

"Well, then." She took a breath inward. "Would this be a social call?"

Thinking about the question and all that it implied, especially as I was no longer a doctor in the area I replied, "Yes ma'am."

She nodded as if my words merely confirmed her suspicions. "In that case, you may join Esme on the porch. May I get you some coffee?"

"No thank you ma'am," I told her politely adding, "Thank you anyway" just in case.

She huffed, "All right," then stared at Miss Platt until Miss Platt looked directly into her mother's gaze. "Not long, Esme. I will be needing you in the kitchen soon." Then she moved back into the house leaving the door open.

Taking the other chair that was on the porch, I moved it closer to Miss Platt, but made sure to keep it at a respectable distance. We had almost tripled the gap between us in comparison to the distance we had at the hospital.

"How have you been, Miss Platt?" I inquired nervously.

She took in a breath and paused as if contemplating a response. "Healing well, and you?" Her tone was reserved lacking the forwardness she had displayed at the hospital.

I sighed uncertain how to interpret what she had spoken or how might be best to answer. The appropriate reply depended on my intentions, which were a mystery to myself.

"I leave tomorrow," I stated.

It was not the polite reply expected, but it was what mattered here. Our time was limited and I wanted to come to a resolution.

"I see." She looked forlorn.

Was it possible that she had grown attached to me? Other patients and colleague had in the past, but this seemed different in an untangle way. I quickly reviewed all of our interactions to ensure that I had never behaved in a manner, which might have suggested advances. There seemed to be none that I could see. Certainly her resemblance to the woman of my village, her quick wit, honesty, and struggles regarding her dreams verses her obligations to her parents had created a sense within me of being connected to her that I had not experienced prior. Nonetheless, our conversations, although not strictly professional, I evaluated as being nothing more than friendly.

We sat in silence as I tried to contemplate what might come of this conversation.

It was Miss Platt that broke our silence. "Might we stay in correspondence, then?"

The question took me by surprise, which certainly showed on my features. I had never stayed in correspondence with anyone before, unless Aro were to be counted, but certainly a friendly letter every half century or so was not what she meant. My correspondence with Aro was in appreciation of his hospitality and the generosity of knowledge that he had shared, as well as my awareness that my success as a doctor would delight and puzzle him. I expected my reasoning of why I corresponded with Aro, or him with me, to have no correlation with her motivation for her request. Consequently, I was at a loss.

"Miss Platt, if you would pardon my confusion and bluntness, but whatever for?"

She looked as confused as I felt.

"I apologize," I told her earnestly. "I suppose it is my fault, really. I have never needed to explain my occupational habits to anyone." I stole a sideways glace at her.

She seemed to be genuinely curious while patiently waiting for me to explain.

My guess was that I would need to expand upon what I had shared in our previous exchange regarding this matter. "Well, you see, I am a fill-in doctor of sorts. Hospitals and clinics post temporary positions. They can be as short as a few months, but I prefer the ones that are a year or so. A hospital might need an extra pair of hands, but are not yet ready to make a permanent position available. Even if the contract is for, say, three years, after a year they might decide they no longer need me and terminate my employment." I looked at her to see if she understood.

She nodded for me to continue.

"I do it because I like to travel and try new places. I do not have a permanent address and I do not have anyone I have ever corresponded with in the manner you suggested previously except for employment purposes."

Her eyes looked sad, but carried this compassionate empathy I did not understand.

Did she feel bad for me for the life I had chosen? I had no clear answers.

"I see," she whispered nearly to herself.

I did not like seeing her sad. Although I could not change what I was and I did not want to change my lifestyle, perhaps there was something I could do for her. Inspiration came to my mind and I felt a burden lift as if I had received an answer to prayer. It was ironic that it was Miss Platt herself and her question that had been the catalyst. Perhaps this was why God had chosen to bring Miss Platt into my life in a way that created such a mysterious yearning within me. Yes, this was the answer, I decided, but first the matter at hand.

"That is not to say that we could not correspond, Miss Platt, with your father's permission, of course. I did not intend to dismiss the merit of your suggestion, but simply to point out possible obstacles."

A small smile started to spread across her face.

Relieved I carried on expressing my idea. "You see, Miss Platt, I found your wish to receive an education moving. I wanted to speak to your father about being your benefactor, but I would not want to do so without your explicated permission."

Her small request had resolved my concerns with my second option and had created the third way my heart had yearned to find. It was such a simple solution, yet one that had not even crossed my mind. It allowed me to give her this without actively being in her life.

Her mouth dropped open and she sat with a dumbfounded look on her face for much longer than I was comfortable. Her features seemed to portray a strange combination of disappointment, restrained joy, and doubt.

I sat patiently remembering to fidget despite my nervousness and, therefore, my internal desire to be still.

Eventually she seemed to come out of her trace speaking in disbelief, "I apologise, Dr. Cullen, but I believe I misheard you."

I smiled, but worked to contain my mirth. Never in my long years had I baffled someone so thoroughly. It was delightful. Perhaps I had done something similar to Aro when we had first met. Our kind hid our reactions supremely well, so I could not be certain, but maybe this was what had intrigued Aro regarding me. He had stated in each and every of his responding letters his enthusiasm for my correspondence.

For a twenty-second of a second I resented that my oddities caused others mirth, but then it was gone replaced with appreciation. If God had made me in such a way that my way of being in the world gave others pleasure, it was a gift. Certainly Aro's life must be weighted with boredom. If I could liven it a little, what harm did that do? Not to mention that Miss Platt's response to me had brought me a feeling that I had not experienced in so long that its very presence was surprising and delightful.

Mrs. Platt's movements indicated that she had overheard my offer and Miss Platt's response, as I suspected she would. She was merely being a diligent mother and ensuring that nothing untoward happened between a non-family member male and her daughter.

After many minutes had passed Miss Platt seemed to settle into herself a bit. "Dr. Cullen, I must have been mistaken," she insisted again.

Perhaps I had given her too much of a fright. I had seen this before in patients. It was like the human mind sometimes refused to take in information due to shock or disbelief.

I modulated my voice to the one I used on my patients to penetrate this resistance. "Miss Platt, I am entirely serious in my intention of requesting your father's permission to be your benefactor so that you might become a teacher, assuming you are agreeable."

Her eyes glazed over and she seemed to be in some kind of odd drunken haze.

I had never had that reaction before. It was entirely puzzling. I wondered what had caused it.

Nevertheless, after a few moments, she shook her head and then nodded.

I looked at her quizzically. "Is that a yes, Miss Platt?"

"Yes," she squeaked in two octaves higher than she normally spoke.

Giddy with delight I tried to recall the last time I had felt such a way. It proved to be a pointless exercise, as there simply was not one. Perhaps some good other than hoarding for a bad day could come of my accumulated wealth.

I could not help but tease her slightly. Moving my head a smidgen to the side, so that my right ear was slightly closer to my right shoulder I asked in a serious tone, "Yes to what, Miss Platt?"

She took in a deep breath seemingly determined to keep herself composed. "Yes, Dr. Cullen, I would be honoured for you to speak to my father about this matter." Despite her words the sides of her mouth were sloped downwards.

"I am glad to hear that, Miss Platt," I told her sincerely.

In what otherwise might have seemed to be perfect timing, Mrs. Platt came out to the porch.

She looked at Miss Platt sternly. "Esme, you are wanted in the kitchen. We be needing to start dinner."

Miss Platt looked down at her cast, over to me, and then her eyes rested at her mother's face. "Yes, Mother. Would you give me a hand?"

"Yes, of course." She seemed to be taking a minute, weighing something. "I am sure Dr. Cullen understands your need for assistance." She looked at me and then back to Miss Platt. "Perhaps he would lend his hand?"

Miss Platt looked at me expectantly.

What was I to do? I had never had such prolonged contact with a human before and since the day was warm by human standards there had been no reasonable explanation for me to wear gloves. Yet, refusing the mistress of the house, not counting the fact that she was Miss Platt's mother, seemed like a poor choice in the circumstance.

"Of course, Mrs. Platt," I answered cordially standing from my chair.

Mrs. Platt nodded and unceremoniously went back into the house.

Going over to Miss Platt I offered my arm hoping that the combination of my union suit, shirt, jacket, and coat would hide my temperature.

She expertly held onto my arm and used it to leverage herself onto her good foot. Then she took a hop forward and I a small step.

"I am sorry about this, Dr. Cullen," Miss Platt whispered. "My mother can be quite insistent when she sets her mind to something."

"It is not a problem, Miss Platt," I replied in equal hushed tones. "I recall a certain doctor's orders regarding staying off the foot and giving it time to heal. I could not very well go against your doctor's orders, now could I?"

She laughed lightly. It was a supremely exquisite sound. It was as if angels had burst into merriment. "No, I suppose not," she replied when she had caught her breath.

Together we navigated the front door and back into the kitchen. The tingling sensation that I had felt at the hospital grew the longer she made use of my arm as if my forearm had become warmer of its own accord. In the kitchen she quickly placed herself into a chair.

After ensuring she was settled, I looked at Mrs. Platt, as I no longer knew what to do with myself.

Mrs. Platt must have sensed my uncertainty. She looked at me squarely. "Are you American, Dr. Cullen?"

It was not an unusual question. Despite the passing of time, I still had not completely shaken my English accent.

I gave my usual answer. "I was born in England, ma'am, but I have lived in America for many years now."

Thankfully she was not the nosy type that then began asking at what age and such questions that usually forced me to lie in some way. I hated having to lie.

"Well, in that case, I will forgive your ignorance that the kitchen is a woman's domain and although I appreciate your aid to our Esme just now, it would be better if you waited for Mr. Platt on the porch or, if you would rather, the parlour."

Weighing my options I asked, "How much longer would you expect Mr. Platt to be, ma'am?"

She looked at me calculatingly. "A few hours at least."

I looked out the window. The clouds looked like they would hold for a while.

"With your permission, might I take a stroll and return then?" I inquired.

Perhaps my deferring to her opinion appeased her, because the furrows on of her forehead seemed to smooth out. I really did not want to sit within earshot and be able to unavoidably hear every word that passed between mother and daughter. That seemed improper.

"Yes, Dr. Cullen, that would be acceptable. Please make your way back before dusk. There is much harm that could be bestowed upon an educated man as yourself in this part of the country after sunset."

It took much effort to keep my face neutral. "Thank you, Mrs. Platt. I will see you then."

She stepped away from the counter and towards the direction Miss Platt and I had just come.

I followed.

"Good day, Dr. Cullen," she told me as she opened the front door.

"Good day, Mrs. Platt," I replied stepping through the door, and then I tipped my hat appropriately.

Walking towards what looked like an orchard, I contemplated if I needed to feed. After evaluating myself I decided that I should be fine. What was really needed, apart from prayer, was the ability to evaluate what I had just gotten myself into. Purposefully, I walked around the trees until I found the one saturated with Miss Platt's scent. Making sure no human was within earshot I followed the her scent, my own body travelling along the same route that she had climbed, tracking where she had sat and for how long based on the scent concentration, and evaluated where she had fallen. It was a new way to use my enhanced senses and I found that the challenge was enjoyable.

I descended to the spot where she had fallen standing there looking upwards trying to imagine Miss Platt on the branch, where her scent was almost fused into the tree, reading and what had happened. Certainly there was another human scent in the tree, most likely male, and then a third on the ground near where she had fallen. Gauging the distance and the path of her scent it seemed as if she had leaned too far forward and fallen. Gratefully, the male scent in the tree was a good foot from her, so I felt confident to conclude that nothing untoward had happened. After that distasteful possibility had been dismissed, I had conjured a solid hypothesis of what had happened. I had to admit to myself that what I had mentally conjured was a delightful image.

My curiosity satisfied I meandered contemplating how best to approach Mr. Platt. After some thought I concluded that the tenor of my conversation with him depended on his views of women receiving an education. I considered what I would be willing to offer in compensation for whatever losses he might believe he would incur, justified or not, for the removal of his daughter from their family home. Having no way of measuring what kind of man Mr. Platt was inclined to be, other than to say that he cared enough about Miss Platt to seek out and pay for medical attention, left me with few assurances.

Miss Platt had previously told me about her parents' desire for her to find an eligible bachelor that would be in the position to take over the farm. Perhaps they would seek a second or third son of a local family for this purpose. If that were the case, could such an individual also be willing to help out Mr. Platt while his daughter was away studying? I tried to add Miss Platt's familial obligations to the equation.

By the time the sun was close enough to the horizon that Mr. Platt might be home, I believed myself ready to negotiate. It seemed, from the conversation in the home as I neared, that they were discussing the merits of having me stay for dinner. It had not even entered my consciousness that they might offer such a thing. Feeling completely out of my depth, I considered all the ways that I might be able to politely decline. This time I made sure to make sound on my approach. Twilight would be in little more than thirty minutes. Consequently, there was enough of the evening remaining for me to speak with Mr. Platt and then be on my way. Reaching the top of the porch, I knocked on the door.

Heavy footsteps journeyed towards me. The door opened and there stood Mr. Platt. He looked dirtier than I remembered from the hospital.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Cullen," he greeted me. His voice was stern and forceful making his message clear that he was the master of the manor.

It seemed like a good enough start.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Platt. Might I have a word?" I asked ensuring my voice was slightly deferral yet confident. It was not much different to how I spoke to my bosses at the hospital.

He looked at me appraisingly. "I just got back home and am still in need of a wash," he informed me in an almost challenging fashion.

Presumably this was a test. Quickly reviewing the little I had overheard about dinner my response to his declaration might be my way around that. It appeared that they would eat after he was cleaned.

"Mr. Platt, if I may be so bold," I started while I watched his eyes narrow and him become slightly more defensive in his posture. "I am set to leave for my new position tomorrow very early and I still need to make my way home in order to arrange the last items before my departure," I continued. "If you would be so kind as to find the time now, I would be entirely grateful."

By the end of my request his body had relaxed slightly causing me to wonder if he was more comfortable negotiating in his present attire. He moved his hand in the direction of the chairs on the porch.

I nodded and moved to where he had indicated. I sat in the chair that had previously contained Miss Platt becoming surrounded by her scent on all sides. It reminded me of my childhood in England making me in equal parts nostalgic and comforted. It was a feeling not unlike coming home. I was so immersed in what her scent had conjured for me that I had not responded to the question Mr. Platt had asked. Thus I ended up needing to review what I had heard, but had not registered.

"My intentions sir?" I spluttered in shock.

How had I not considered this to be his opening question? He was obviously a direct man. As much as I admired his approach, I was much more accustomed to the round about manner that the upper middle class doctors communicated.

"Yes, Dr. Cullen, what are your intentions?" he repeated slowly looking at me as if I were well below his station.

This line of questions was entirely unexpected, because I had thought that had already made it clear that courting Miss Platt was not my purpose. Apart from the major reasons against courting her, her statement regarding her future daughter within whom held her hope had not left me.

Responding with as much honesty as allowable, I attempted to make myself clear, "My intention, sir, was to offer to pay for all of the costs associated with the education of Miss Platt and to compensate you appropriately for the added burden on you and your wife by her absence from your home until such time as she graduated with her degree."

He seemed to take this in, evaluating my words carefully, but he was a difficult man to read. I was uncertain what he was doing with this information.

"You have no intention to court my daughter, then?" he questioned in a nearly interrogative manner.

Ah, realization dawned. This must be more than the opening question; it was the crux of the matter for him. Miss Platt's assessment that he was looking for a suitable husband for her was confirmed. Despite knowing this was not a possibility, sitting here in front of the father of the woman who so reminded me of my village interest, brought me sadness, as if I were losing that never-to-be future all over again. Miss Platt was not her I forcefully reminded myself, although, without doubt Miss Platt would make a wonderful wife and mother one day. I calculated how to answer. If this is what mattered to him, then saying no in a forthright manner might force him to refuse Miss Platt her chance at an education. I did not want to do that to her. Simultaneously, I did not want to lie or even mislead him about such a serious matter.

After sufficient thought I told him, "As I explained to Miss Platt, my present lifestyle is not conducive to domestic living. This is the most I can offer."

Hopefully he could read between the lines and understand. I wanted to give Miss Platt every opportunity and to see her happy, as repayment for what she had given me, but being my wife was not on the table.

"Care to explain, then, your meaning in making the offer?" he pressed.

This question I had expected. "Well, you see, sir, the second night Miss Platt was recuperating I made the mistake of inquiring about the books that had been brought to her for her enjoyment. She spoke with passion that impressed me. Our youth today are in desperate need of the type of excitement and enthusiasm that I am certain Miss Platt would bring to a classroom." As I had anticipated, this did not appear to convince Mr. Platt, so I quieted my voice to a volume that only he would hear. "Many years ago now I contracted an illness that stole from me the possibility of fathering children, you see. This is my way of contributing to the future."

I watched as my last sentence changed his demeanour. It was personal information, for sure, and if Mr. Platt was the gossiping type, and if the news travelled far, it might negatively impact others views of me as a doctor. I knew this, but I had already decided that it was the closest to the truth that I could offer him.

He nodded knowingly like he understood this burden. Perhaps he did in a way. After all, he only had one daughter.

"If I were to agree to your proposal, what would it entail?" he asked his tone softening some.

Taking this as a good sign, despite his obvious emphasis on the 'if', I replied, "I had assumed that Miss Platt had already received her high school diploma."

Mr. Platt nodded his head curtly. If I had to guess, based on his body language, her doing so was against his better judgement. I wondered if that was Mrs. Platt's influence, then.

"Then, Miss Platt would need to apply to a woman's college that would offer her the degree she wanted. I am not knowledgeable about woman's colleges, but once I have settled into my new placement, I could make some inquiries."

Mr. Platt nodded a little less curtly this time assumingly allowing me to continue.

"I would pay for all applications and postage costs, of course." He gave no reaction, so I continued. "Assuming she was accepted to one of the schools, she would move there for her studies returning home in the summers. Most degrees of this nature are three years in length, but as I have no knowledge of women's colleges, I am basing that assumption off of my own experience." His heart was beating slightly faster, but there were no other indication to my words, so I forged ahead. "Classes usually start in the fall. Responses to applications are usually made by April. Applicants need recommendations. I would supply one, but she would also need one from her high school teacher."

There were many long minutes that passed between us. "So, she would be nearly twenty at the end of her education?" he finally asked.

The question seemed strange to me, but I answered it to be best of my knowledge anyway. "Assuming my calculations and assumptions are correct. Yes, sir."

More long minutes passed.

He went to stand. "Well, Dr. Cullen, you've given me a lot to think about. How might I reach you with my decision?"

I stood with him. "The best way would be if I mailed you a letter with a return address when I am settled. I do not know what my future postage address will be at this time."

He nodded like he expected this answer.

"That's fine, Dr. Cullen. Till then, good sir, safe travels."

Presenting my hand I told him, "I appreciate your time and willingness to consider my offer."

He shook it replying, "Good evening, Dr. Cullen."

"Good evening, Mr. Platt. Please give Mrs. Platt and Miss Platt my warmest regards and thank them for their hospitality earlier," I told him.

"Certainly, Dr. Cullen," he replied cordially.

There was nothing more that could be said if I wished to follow the rules of conduct for this era. Smiling in a way that I hoped conveyed my thanks, I paused for a moment to listen to their sounds, took in a deep breath, and turned away from Mr. Platt and walked down the stairs.

Walking up the drive and away from their home, I debated the whole way whether or not I should go back and listen in until they went to bed. No, I decided. Just because I could did not mean I should. The family had the right to discuss their family matters in peace. It was now in the hands of God and Mr. Platt. It surprised me that he had not wanted to discuss the financial specifics. I had expected him to want to do so. Perhaps those details would be finalized over post, assuming he agreed to my offer.

Whether he gave his consent or not, I felt lighter, freer than I had in years. That alone told me that I had done the right thing by making this offer, no matter the outcome. And for the first time in a long time, my faith felt as if it had been expanded. Nothing untoward had happened, a bright young woman might go to college and make the world a little better, and I felt just the slightest bit less alone. I could move on knowing that I had done all that was possible. Despite my initial trepidation, I left believing that what had transpired had been the better outcome for both Miss Platt and myself. By far the emotion most prevalent, as I reflected on my way home, was surprise. It was a wonderful sensation. It had been too long since something had surprised me. The result that had transpired due to me acting a little more on my heart's desires had been far better than I had imagined. My heart lighter and my faith increased I travelled back to my place buoyant.


	4. Decisions and Their Impacts

Beta: The incredible and amazing _kiwihipp_

(Updated 19 Nov 17)

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 **Chapter 4: Decisions and Their Impacts  
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I had settled into the new position, had an address, and yet almost a full week had passed without me penning a correspondence to Mr. Platt. It was not like I had somehow forgotten. It was, in fact, the strangest thing. Each time I went to write the letter, I would find a way to talk myself out of doing so. Excuse after excuse stopped me from completing this simple task until I had run out rational as well as irrational delays. Thus, by the sixteenth day, since my arrival, I was forced to acknowledge the ludicrous state of things and to examine my conduct.

After some reflection, my conclusion was that my uncharacteristic behaviour was a result of my apprehension. A part of me, the part that was winning evidently, did not want to know Mr. Platt's answer. An imagined yes was vastly superior to the probability of receiving a no. Actually confronting the reality of what penning the letter meant for my future and my connection with Miss Platt was an unpleasant prospect, one I was reluctant to face. To make matters worse, my delay tactics had only increased my nervousness of what I might say.

When I finally forced myself to complete the task, it took me an unreasonable amount of time to pen such a simple thing. I wanted every word to be just right. There were more crumbled attempts in my waste paper basket from this one menial activity than every note I had ever penned over all my years as a vampire combined. The physical discards did not account for the thousands of mental options I had formed and then rejected as I had created and remade every sentence. Eventually, after careful consideration of the little that I knew about Mr. Platt, I settled on a short and direct letter in plain language.

 _Dear Mr. Platt,_

 _Thank you once again for your hospitality and taking the time to hear my request. I hope this letter finds you and Mrs. Platt well, and that Miss Platt is recovering in a timely fashion. Please find an address for correspondence below._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Dr. Carlisle Cullen_

It then took me an equally unreasonable amount of time to deliver it to the post office. Ironically, at the hospital, the night directly after the letter made itself to the mailbox, was the beginning of what I could only describe as restlessness, or perhaps impatience is a more apt term, that began to settle and then increase within me. The thought that I could have run the letter to the Platts' residence faster than it would take the postal service would not leave me. Not to mention that I had to trust the postal carrier to correctly deliver the letter, in Mr. Platt's word that he would respond, and then, once more, in the postal service to get Mr. Platt's letter to me. If I had nerves to fry, I might have very well been on my last one.

My future had never felt so out of my control, as I did the weeks that passed, after I had mailed Mr. Platt. It was entirely disquieting. In response to the uncertainty, I prayed more fervently and more often, endeavouring to use this as an opportunity to lean on my faith. Despite my prayers and attempts to trust in receiving a response in a human manner, more than once a day and most often when I was off work, I was tempted to run down to the Platt residence and use my heightened capacities to receive my answer. In particularly poor moments I imagined how to use my nature to ensure things went as I hoped they would. Outside of the hospital I had rare occasions to desire to use the advantages that my vampiric nature gave me, and these thoughts seemed astoundingly absurd. On the other end of the spectrum, I was also often tempted to call my present accountant to discuss how I might financially pull my offer off, but each time I talked myself out of it, reminding myself that there was no point in having that conversation until I had a firm course.

There was no doubt that the upheaval in my life was of my own doing. I had been the one that had followed my heart, rather than acting on the rational course. Despite assuredly knowing these facts, in my weakest moments I tried to convince myself that Miss Platt was responsible for my world being upended, since she had been the one to suggest keeping in correspondence. My own ridiculousness and weakness in honour unsettled me.

To combat these temptations great and small I threw myself into my work attempting to distract myself from thinking about everything concerning Miss Platt. Fortunately for me, this hospital was bigger and busier than ones I had worked at before. I had applied for the position as a way to test myself in hopes of eventually working in a large hospital in a bustling city. The amount of cases this hospital serviced meant that I was often requested to work continuous nights. To aid with my desire for distraction, I also extended my hours as much as I could get away with. It being the beginning of my time in the location, so I wasn't well known yet, as well as its size, allowed my work habits to pass undetected. It also helped that my wages were the same no matter how much I worked, which was not the case at all hospitals. Although certainly my working hours were bound to attract attention eventually, so prudence was needed.

This new location has a central library that contained about a twelve percent increased collection to any library prior. There was also a park with a bench between the hospital and the library, so my routine was disturbed little by the move. My movements to a bench to think and pray after work, to the library, and then to home were perfunctory. Nothing seemed to hold the same radiance as it once had. It was if once the decision was made and the letter sent that the colour had been removed from the world. Was it simply that I did not like waiting? Did my change in mood have to do with Miss Platt herself in some way? No good answer ever came to me, despite the time devoted to the questions. One thing I could say with certainty was that as bland my world might have become; there was no melancholy in me.

It was a gruelling twenty-two days later when Mr. Platt's scent radiated from my mailbox. Taking his response into my residence, I stood completely still staring at it for ages. Upon closer inspection it smelled like their home, their three scents mixed with cooking and farming and human living. Esme's scent had a slightly earthier tone to it, but I detected nothing untoward. I was uncertain if I had the courage necessary to read the contents. After a while my concerns about a simply piece of paper seemed foolish. Praying, I offered my gratitude to God before my fingers ever so gently slid it opened.

 _Dear Dr. Cullen,_

 _After much consideration, I have decided to seriously consider your offer. Please send the names of the women's colleges and any information I might need to make a formal decision. Assuming I permit my daughter to apply, and if she is accepted, then I will hold you to your word to cover all costs regarding her education and we can discuss remunerations in regards to this household at that time._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Mr. Platt_

It took me a full seven minutes to digest his words. It was neither a yes nor a no. The effect that the letter had on me was unsettling. It was like he was holding me hostage. Although from his perspective, the reason to not yet firmly commit was prudent. Nonetheless, I had a distinct dislike of his provisional yes. However, at the minimum, he had given his permission for me to proceed. I felt a nervous excitement in a way that I had never experienced prior. For the next fortnight I decreased my working hours to what my contract requested of me and spent every minute I was not at the hospital researching women's colleges in America. I often silently prayed during my search asking God for guidance and forgiveness for forgoing my habitual daily prayers.

Naturally, given the development of the country, most of the colleges were in the northeast or in the southern region. It seemed to be a reasonable assumption that it would be easier to convince Mr. Platt if Miss Platt were closer than further away, so I narrowed my search to options within their state or neighbouring ones. There were good prospects in Pennsylvania and Indiana. I paid the fees to call by wire each of the schools that fit the geographic criteria requesting information regarding degree offered in Art or Higher School Education to be sent to my address. A few weeks after making these calls I received more mail than I had in the hundreds of years prior.

Each day that passed added to my collective sense of excitement, anticipation, and happiness. By the end of six weeks after the appearance of Mr. Platt's letter, I had received every college's correspondence including costs, application requirements, and housing accommodations. Every spare minute I had was spent going through the material and weeding out any of the colleges that had no classes in the study of art at all. Art appreciate or art history seemed like an easy enough class to come by, but I wanted her to have the opportunity to improve the making of her own art, given our conversation about the matter. Despite its tediousness, I enjoyed how this activity forced me to learn new things about the world that I would have never otherwise enquired upon and that I had a purpose outside of the hospital.

I had settled on four schools that I deemed worthy of Miss Platt's application. Doing so gave me a sense of accomplishment that was unexpected. I attempted to tame my feelings with rational thought. Many of the school were founded by religious institutions and since I did not know Miss Platt's religious affiliation I disregarded that information in my discernment process, but made sure to include that information in my letter to Mr. Platt. The goal had been and was to sway Mr. Platt into a firm yes.

My window of opportunity was closing soon. Miss Platt would need time to construct an essay of admission and acquire the other required elements. I was uncertain if anyone she knew would know how to construct such an essay, so I also included detailed instructions including how to be persuasive and what to leave out. I enjoyed sharing these things that I had learned, and, consequently, enriching someone else's life with my non-medical knowledge.

In the bundle to Mr. Platt I included the four school's information packets that had been sent to me and a check that covered the cost of each school's application fee, the postage, and a bit more in case they might incur costs that I could not expect along with a letter explaining all that was included, my reasoning for each inclusion, a description of the next steps, and what they might expect in the coming months.

Once that was completed, I went back to my usual routine with no idea of what to anticipate. The thrill and excitement eventually dissipated, and, although, I was not melancholy, the world had taken on a banal tone. What kept the trite colouring out of my life from turning into something more grim was the hope that they were in the process of completing the steps I had laid out, and thus I would hear back from Mr. Platt in the next couple of months. My temptation to run to their homestead increased with each passing week. On Christmas Eve, surprisingly, there was a Christmas card in my box from the Platts. It merely wished me a happy season and confirmed that they had received all that I had sent.

The very reception of their card eased my nerves and, thus, decreased the necessity of keeping a strong hold on myself to ensure that I would not give into the temptation of running down to them. It also firmed up my hope allowing me to see that giving into this temptation would be unreasonable, offering me a firmer resolve to resist being consumed by these unknown emotions. My gratitude at the Platts' thoughtfulness of their season's greetings seemed to soothe whatever had caused the dull tone to infiltrate how I saw things. Slowly over the next weeks with no explanation the colour returned to my life. I began to enjoy reading again and, although I wondered what was happening in the Platt household, through self-disciple, I made sure they were nothing more than a fleeting thought.

Unexpectedly in mid-February a note from Miss Platt arrived.

 _Dear Dr. Cullen,_

 _I hope this finds you well._

 _I am writing to inform you that I have successfully applied to three of the four schools. The one my father declined me to apply to was Catholic and we are not. I was able to get my high school teacher, one Miss Joseph, to write a recommendation letter. As you requested, I gave her the instructions you sent regarding that matter. I am anxiously awaiting their responses._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Miss Platt_

 _P.S. My leg is as good as new thanks to my doctor._

 _P.P.S. Please do not feel inclined to reply._

I laughed out loud at the last postscript. No doubt she had written the postscripts after receiving approval for the letter to be sent. I wondered if her mother had a hand in me receiving a notification at all. It did not seem like Mr. Platt's style and Mrs. Platt's scent was on the paper as if she had handled it as some point. The usual Platt household smells brought a smile to my face, but the scent of Miss Platt was certainly strong. She must have held the paper for some time for her oils to be absorbed so well into the parchment. I found that I had missed Miss Platt's scent as much as I missed my motherland, more so actually. It was an odd sensation, not entirely unpleasant, but I wondered the virtues of missing someone whose days were limited.

After its arrival, I gave myself two days to read over and enjoy Miss Platt's letter before I put it away and forced my mind to focus on other things. My enjoyment of the rhythm of my life may perhaps be compared to the enjoyment a human might have in taking a breath. It was perfunctory, apart from the moments when I believed that my work really had made a difference in someone's life, but it brought order to my days. And the moments when I hoped my life had improved another individual's made the rest worthwhile.

I watched as the flowers blossomed and trees budded. Although I tried not to dwell on it, unease began to spread within me as the days of April trickled by. Leaving my fate to human hands made me highly uncomfortable, but in a qualitatively different way than when my life had been in Aro's hands upon our first meeting. In both cases I had been left with little choice but to wait and see how things turned out. For many days I pondered if the sensation of these weeks was a human one. An answer was mysterious, but the very idea, true or not, pleased me. I could only hope that the discomfort I felt had gifted me with a part of my humanity that I had lost.

In the first week of May a letter from Mr. Platt arrived in my box. I opened it as soon as privacy could be found.

 _Dear Dr. Cullen,_

 _This is to inform you that Miss Platt was accepted to all three schools in which she applied. Given your offer to cover the costs of attendance, I leave the decision of where she attends up to you. I have included all three acceptance letters and their enclosed instructions in the hopes that this might help inform you of your decision._

 _If you are agreeable, I believe two man's labor to be a fair exchange for Miss Platt's absence from the home._

 _Additionally, if you would be so kind, Mrs. Platt has requested to accompany us on the journey to the school of your choosing. I would leave the transportation arrangements to your discretion._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Mr. Platt_

Stunned it took me a whole thirteen minutes and eighteen seconds to arise myself from my frozen state. He had agreed to send Miss Platt to college. He had agreed! It would cost me a pretty penny, but the joy I felt in that moment made it feel like a shilling. I studiously looked over each of the colleges she had been accepted to and chose the one with the most art classes, even though it was the most expensive. For some strange reason doing so brought me more joy than when I had picked out my own path of study.

Once all the matters regarding the school itself were sorted, I called the accountant and explained my intentions. He recommended some type of institution that would protect me legally and monetarily. I told him to enact his recommendation and paid him the sum to make it reality in the shortest amount of human time possible. Sending in the letter accepting the attendance of Miss Platt to college was the happiest day of my life. It was with sublime bliss that I responded.

 _Mr. Platt,_

 _I find the sum for the loss of Miss Platt from your household to be acceptable._

 _My accountant has set up the appropriate accounts for Miss Platt's schooling. Consequently, all checks you receive, including the one enclosed, as well as those to be sent to the school will be from that account. They should be able to be deposited as normal, but if there are any problems with the arrangements made, please inform me straight away._

 _I have purchased three first class tickets to the school and two returning. Please find them enclosed. The date of arrival allows you and Mrs. Platt two days to explore the school and surrounding area. Hopefully, this will give you enough time to confirm that the school up to your standards. The enclosed check should be enough to cover the cost of whatever hotel you choose for your stay as well as your meals._

 _Customarily the days before classes start there will be student's orientation and other informative gatherings. Parents often accompany their children to these offerings. I would recommend attending all events presented, as they were very helpful to me when I was a student._

 _Please allow some boldness on my part. Young women of a high social status will primarily be the students at this college, and thus attire will be important. The enclosed check I believe to contain enough, in addition to the above mentioned items, for you and Mrs. Platt to acquire the clothing necessary for the two days you will be in attendance as well as for Miss Platt to purchase at least two weeks worth of dresses. I would recommend a tailor for yourself. Please find an enclosed catalogue that I have been led to believe represents the type of fashion Miss Platt will be expected to have at a school such as this. I trust Mrs. Platt to know the appropriate apparel for herself. If Mrs. Platt finds this sum inadequate, please pay for a telegraph and I will send another check posthaste, since I know little about the cost of women's attire._

 _If you would allow more boldness on my part, and, if such a thing is possible, I would recommend Miss Platt take lady's etiquette lessons in the months before her arrival to college, so that she does not stand out amongst her peers, hopefully allowing her the opportunity to makes friends and to be included socially. Additionally, these lessons will ideally give her a basic introduction to the formal behavior classes she will be expected to attend at the college. The cost of attending such classes is also included in the enclosed check._

 _I am humbled that you would permit me the honor of sponsoring Miss Platt. I wish you nothing but the best for the next year._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Dr. Carlisle Cullen_

Shortly after this letter was posted, I wrote the check for the first year's tuition including all room and board costs as well as a spending account for Miss Platt, and mailed it to the school hoping that she would be happy.

Initially my accountant informed me every instance that the checks cleared. However, as Christmas approached I explained to him that these updates were no longer necessary. I had become what I had offered–her benefactor. At times it did not feel sufficient, but I refused to cut her human life short and doing anything greater than I had offered exponentially increased that possibility. That was my relationship with Miss Platt: inadequate, but more than I could have hoped for.

Unexpectedly, I received a Christmas card again from the Platts. It offered nothing but season's greetings and a word of thanks. I was not sure what to make of it. It smelled of the Platt's home minus Miss Platt, which made it seem unwelcomed. My only reasonable assumption was that Mr. and Mrs. Platt were appreciative of the opportunity my offer had afforded their family, but that it would have been hard on them to spend the Christmas season apart from their only child, an unwed one at that. It had been apparent from the beginning that would be the case, as the journey was too far and the break too short for any other options. Nevertheless, I had witnessed in the nursing staff the yearning of many to be with their families in the holiday season.

In the beginning, after my change, I had found the worship of Advent difficult. I would sit in a tree near enough to my father's church to hear the rituals associated with this season holding my breath. I would remember my role in the events, how my father had taught me the different tasks to be done, and the purpose in which we celebrated. Over time my incapacity to participate as I once did and then how the ritual changed over time made the season more sad than anticipatory. Nevertheless, either on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day I would find myself going to a service to worship the birth of the Saviour whose life offered salvation and redemption for all.

This Christmas was no different, except that for the first time, as I sat in the service, I wondered what this season might have meant to a human family of this era, which naturally caused me to wonder how the Platts might have usually celebrated. A part of me wished to ask such a lacklustre question and learn these details about Miss Platt, but I knew that was not my role in her life, so put those wishes aside. Despite me doing so, I found myself lightening a candle after the service and desiring to request that God, if He would ever be so gracious, might offer me a family, but as that wish seemed greedy, at the last moment I changed my prayer to being given a companion. Perhaps one day. My life was full of days. God had lots of time to answer my prayer after all.

After the commencement of the new year, I called the school to enquire about Miss Platt's grades. I was cordially informed that she had received top marks except in Math, which were average. Hanging up the receiver, I hoped, above all else, that she was enjoying the experience.

About a month into 1913 there was a young woman bearing some slight resemblance to Miss Platt who was admitted. Neither the patient nor anyone I had met prior to Miss Platt had ever impacted me the way she had. This encounter only increased my ponderings regarding what it was about Miss Platt that had drawn me in, but as there was no way to find the answer, I left the question behind, focusing on my work and my imaginings of what Miss Platt's first college year was like. Through the semester I occasionally thought of her, but nothing like the intensity during Christmas, and, except for my bank account, my life returned to how it was before my encounter with her.

When the end of the school year was drawing near I sent the train tickets to the Platts. The enclosed letter had informed them that I might be moving again before the end of the year and to send all correspondence to my accountant. Then I mailed my accountant's assistant a detailed order of my expectations for the care of Miss Platt's education in the next school year including all the additional costs needed. A few weeks later I received a letter back from the accountant's office letting me know that my instructions would be carried through. Unsurprisingly, upon my enquiry I found her grades for the second semester to have also been exemplary. Her class choices pleased me.

On a rare day during the summer, when I said my prayers, I would wish that I could ask Miss Platt about her courses and what she had learned. It was not my place. I was the most involved with Miss Platt as was safe, and thus went on with my work instead of giving in to this new temptation.

Beginning of August I received a large fairly flat rectangular package from the Platts that emanated the scents of oils and parchments as well as some chemicals that were hard to name with the wrappings. Curious, as soon as I was within my housing, I opened it. It was a drawing of Miss Platt's beloved tree. I dare say it was more exquisite than the tree itself. It was like she took the original tree and then added all of how she felt about it as well. The next day I took it to the framers.

The framer asked upon the artist and I merely stated that the artist was new and not well known yet. The storeowner came over to me and explained that they kept new artists' paintings in the shop to brighten the space along with the commission they took and the price ranges. In this way I learned that Miss Platt's hand was as gifted as her mind, which I did not find surprising. I doubted Miss Platt would want to become an artist or that her father would approve; nonetheless, the reaction to her painting pleased me.

The painting also had contained a note, which I nearly had missed in my exuberance of the painting itself.

 _Dear Dr. Cullen,_

 _Words can never contain my gratitude for your gift of an education. As I came out of a class, I would often wish you were there with me to discuss certain ideas or even to debate a professor's argument. My father informed me that you might be moving soon, so I wanted to get you this small token of my appreciation that I did for a class project before it never reaches you. I hope you can take it with you on your travels._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Miss Platt_

The irony that I had also wished to discuss her classes with her did not escape me. Certainly, corresponding with her was audacious. Despite that, I could not help but wonder if it might be possible. I certainly could not attend a woman's college, but it appeared, despite the passing of time and the distance between us, that we both hungered for the intellectual stimulation brought forth by the other. It had been the opening that had brought us to this point, after all. I decided, contrary to good sense, to get her address at the college after classes had begun in September. I briefly considered if she would object to such a correspondence, but rejected the thought immediately since she had been the one originally to suggest we correspond by post. Nevertheless, even after I had the address in hand it took me ages to gather the courage to pen her.

 _Dear Miss Platt,_

 _Although attending classes with you at a women's college seems unlikely at this venture, perhaps an intellectual engagement by post would also meet your request?_

 _Most sincerely,_

 _Dr. Carlisle Cullen_

Not long after I received her first letter full of her thoughts about philosophers, her classmates, and college life generally. At times her words were so descriptive that it was as if I were reading her diary, but as she had mailed it, I presumed she wanted to share these intimate ponderings with me. I always replied honestly, sometimes questioning the direction of her thoughts, sometimes offering advice for the small things I did know, and more than anything pouring myself out onto the page, opening up more to her than I had ever done with anyone prior, causing her to know more about me than any creature before. Except perhaps Aro, given his gift, but even with his ability to read every thought, I suspected that he understood me little still. Over the months and letters Miss Platt and I had conversations about the nature of God and man, the rights of women, art and what it conveys, social etiquette of the upper classes, and everything else in between.

Perhaps it was the nature of the written word and its capacity to allow me to be honest without putting her at risk or her gentle nature, I cannot say. What became clear, however, was that somewhere towards the end of her second year I came to believe that I had acquired a friend. It was about this time that she, hesitantly, explained that she wanted a double major, Art and High School Education, but it would take four years rather than the previously agreed upon three. I replied in my last letter before the end of the semester that I was agreeable, but that ultimately it was a question for her father. I was willing to pay for it, if he was willing to spare her. At the end of July I received notification from my accountant of the request, which I approved. By this time I had moved. A new town, a new hospital, the same familiar routine, nothing was different except for Miss Platt's letters.

In the beginning of her third school year I informed her of my own changed address. Over the next two years her letters changed, her arguments grew, her thought process was refined, and I could tell that this was no longer the young sixteen-year-old that I had mended. Starting in the second half of her third year she spoke of approaching school dances. I took note of the fact that she never added information of a man who interested her. I wondered if she merely believed that to be an inappropriate topic. In moments of weakness, I believed her information about social gatherings to be taunting me.

My affection for Miss Platt had grown over the years. I was well aware of how her correspondence brightened my day and how many hours I spent contemplating my responses. The more that I had gotten to know her and the more she had matured the more my initial assessment that she would make a wonderful wife grew. Additionally, as my appreciation and understanding of her expanded, so did my affection for her and my attachment to her. Each letter offered me a crossroads. At any time I could state an intention to court her, but I never could rationalize stealing away her future. Despite the occasional selfish desire to do so, my reasoning made acting on such a thing reprehensible. I would not be like the sewer monster that stole my human life from me.

My greatest test came in one of her first letters in the beginning of her fourth year when she mentioned that her father was putting pressure on her to find a suitable husband and that she held no interest in marrying a farmer. She had turned twenty in June, getting closer to being an old maid by her culture's standards. Obviously, she was offering me an opportunity to secure her hand. It was the loveliest thing anyone had ever done, and the greatest temptation I had ever faced. With great effort my responding letter commented on all but that.

As expected, by the end of the school year she informed me that she had accepted a man's hand in marriage. The pain I felt for days after was unexplainable and completely irrational. Once again the colour had been drained out of my world. I was happy for her. I was, but that didn't stop the ache I felt. The thoughts of how I could never grow older and all that would mean for our friendship haunted me. The reality of her moving on with her life and one day dying was far worse than I had ever imagined. I consoled myself with the knowledge of the children she would bear, the grandchildren she would one day have, and the joy her life would contain. I had known this was the cost I would pay for having a human friend. It just was more unpleasant than I had anticipated.

In the summer I received an announcement for the wedding, which would be held the following early June. She explained in a separate letter that she had gotten a job teaching near the college to stay close to her fiancée who was studying medicine and had one more year. They would marry after he graduated, as his program was intense and he did not believe himself able to properly fulfil his role as a husband until after he was graduated. It was a good life for a human, and I respected their decision. It would be a challenge for them both to be engaged and remain chaste. Nevertheless, she seemed happy. I worked diligently at being happy for her. Nothing had challenged my convictions to respect human life, however a part of me wanted nothing greater than to burst into the wedding in order to object and spirit her off. It was irrational, but the mental images were there. Naturally, I worked to tame them as I had all other irrational or immoral things.

By the time that the War had been raging for almost two years I had moved again. Our correspondence continued through these years, but it was more cordial and sporadic. By the summer she was to marry I had decided to move to Chicago. I felt more confident of my ability to dwell and work in a bigger city and I wanted to be near Chicago's library. More than anything, however, I needed a challenge, and something to distract me from Miss Platt.

Her next letter told me that her husband had decided to offer his services in England caring for the wounded, and so he had left shortly after their honeymoon. She seemed to enjoy teaching, but had promised him that she would end her occupation upon his return, so that she might focus on being a mother and wife. I knew it was the custom of women to do so, but it pained me nonetheless that the children she taught would be losing such a bright mind and kind heart.

Before the war ended Edward came into my life. He was an answer to so many of my prayers and soothed much of the parts of me that missed the comradely I had once shared with Miss Platt. As soon as I could, I had written Miss Platt explaining that I had suddenly taken in an orphaned young man and was nursing him back to health while also explaining that due to his condition I would be moving to a remote location and it might be a while before I was able to write again. I gave her a P.O. Box, in a small city about four hours by motor vehicle from the cabin in which I was raising Edward, since we were staying too far away for the post to be delivered and I didn't want her scent near a newborn.

It took over a year by the time that I felt confident enough to leave Edward alone for an extended period of time in order to make the journey to my P.O. Box. In the mean time the War had ended. With great relief and joy two letters from Miss Platt greeted me. In those letters I learned that her husband had returned home. Her words were full of the usual philosophical lamentations, but there was an undercurrent of sadness that I just did not understand. I wished like before that money and education was the cure to her ailment, but I doubted it.

Unwilling to risk taking her scent into the house, I stayed at the post office and wrote her a letter replying to her thoughts, wishing her health and happiness, and explaining without the specifics my struggles with Edward. It felt good to have a friend, someone who I could tell of my hardships and joys, even if the details were not there, the sentiments were. I explained that I anticipated being more regular in my correspondence in the future given my hopes to resume my occupation in the next year. Hopefully, Edward could be by himself for enough hours that I could be working by then. Edward was more important, of course, but I also missed being a doctor.

As I drove home, I realized that as much as a convenience Edward's telepathy was, I did not want to share Miss Platt with him in that way. I did not know how to avoid it, though. Certainly once I started back at the hospital I would have to manage my thoughts regarding my work. Thus, Miss Platt seemed like a good enough place to start learning this skill.

It took Edward three days before he asked, "Who is Miss Platt?"

"Why do you ask, Edward?" I replied.

He looked up from his book and gave me a look to say, do I have to explain this to you?

We usually communicated telepathically, but I wanted to have this conversation verbally mostly due to my concern of what I might give away unintentionally in our usual manner of communicating.

"Because her name has slipped into your thoughts since you came back from your day out, but nothing else and the curiosity is killing me."

I smiled. "Well, I wanted to use her as a case study for when I go back to work," I explained. "As you know I will need to hide my thoughts about what I do at the hospital, but you also need to be able to block out my thoughts or disregard them. We cannot live in isolation five miles from any human for the next thousand years."

He gave me a look like, well why not, but then it morphed into resignation. He knew this was something we needed to work on.

"So, I have been trying to distract myself from thinking about her to see if that might work. It sounds like it has been marginally successful."

"Perhaps." He sounded simultaneously crestfallen and excited. "I can see a young girl with a leg in a cast combined with the smells and sounds of a hospital, letters, and then her name, but that is it."

"So, I would like to tell you a bit about Miss Platt, but I want you to try to block out my thoughts as I do so."

He raised his eyebrows.

"I promise to be detailed and explicit so you won't miss anything."

"All right, Carlisle," he replied with a heavy sigh.

Thus commenced my telling him all about the first time I met Miss Platt. As promised, I described the story with precise detail. He looked like a boy sitting by a fireside mesmerized by the teller.

"So, how well were you able to do?" I asked him at the end of my telling.

He looked down. "Not that well. It was incredible though, getting the moments of your memory along with your interpretations of these moments. It made what I receive feel more alive. A few times I was able to do something similar to tuning the input down, like I might a radio, and it became less clear, but I was not able to block it entirely."

"I would say that is a great job, Edward. Any progress is fantastic. Neither one of us knows what we are doing. We are both learning as we go. Let us try again tomorrow."

Thus began our routine. Once a day I would tell a story, often from my time in Volterra or my first years in America, while he tried to dial me down and make things fuzzier. After a few months he was doing fairly well and his control over his bloodlust was hugely increased.

 _Edward, given your improvement, I suggest you travel the thirty minutes with me to purchase items necessary for our human pretences the next time I go. The population is a few hundred._

"And if it is too much?" he challenged.

 _If it is too much for your gift, then we will know before too long. In regards to blood, you can stay in the car with the windows up and if either becomes too much we will simply turn around and come home._

Hesitantly he agreed.

It was difficult and required great focus on his part, but he stayed in the car while I purchased food and other human provisions. He was pleased with himself and as soon as we got home we hunted. He started accompanying me on my bi-monthly journey into town. It took six months of practice from the outset of our work regarding his gift at home and then working on him managing both his gift and bloodlust in town until he was able accompany me into the shop, although he held his breath the whole time and never spoke.

 _Perhaps you are ready to accompany me on the journey into the city?_ I suggested three months later.

He was dubious.

In my mind's eye I played out the route and the small as well as medium sized towns we would pass through on the way. It was a risk with the higher populations and having higher human density, but I was confident in him. He was concerned for his control, and we were both uncertain the impact of the population on his gift. However after encouragement, Edward reluctantly agreed.

On the day it was slow going with him having to adjust with each area that had many individuals. As we neared the city we pulled over to the side of the road every few miles while he adjusted to the volume, as he explained it, of so many inner voices. A four hour journey took us almost nine, but as we had anticipated a longer journey and set out before dawn, I was still able to get to the P.O. Box before the office closed.

"Edward, would it be easier if I sorted through the mail here?" I asked him before I exited the car.

He knew what I was asking. If I brought the mail home without responding, then I would want to bring it into my office. Our home had been his place of refuge from temptation as I kept the provisions from town and the read mail in a shed set apart from the house. I could, of course, respond in the shed and that I idea went through my head, which Edward would have also seen as a possibility.

"Bring them to the car. If I can manage them in the car, then it should be fine," he told me with determination.

"That sounds reasonable," I told him proud of his willingness to test himself. "Be right back."

It did not take long to retrieve my mail. Sure enough there was a letter from Miss Platt. I knew calling her that even though she was now married was ridiculous, but she would always be Miss Platt to me. As I brought the mail to the car, I realized my hesitancy. I felt protective of her and I did not want Edward to catch her scent. It was ludicrous, but I could not help it.

"I would not Carlisle," he told me in our low murmur as I approached the car. "I know important she is to you."

I sighed deeply, a habit I had acquired over the years to appear more human. _Rationally I know this Edward. It is not a reflection of you. I am often not rational when it comes to Miss Platt._

He looked over at me as I got into the car as if I had said the world was flat.

 _I care about her greatly. I have only wanted what was best for her, even from when I first met her. I cannot explain it. It is not rational, but it is there._

Usually the trip to the city would have included many other stops, but for Edward's sake we headed straight back out. Edward was silent during the drive home. Fortunately leaving the city seemed to be easier on him than entering it.

"Do you love her?" he inquired when he finally spoke.

"I could not say, Edward. What is love but affection that grows with time? We spent merely a few hours together. She is human. We stopped at affection. She is married now and probably heavy with child. No," I concluded searching myself, "I cannot say I love her."

Despite my answer, I could not get Edward's question out of my head my thoughts going round and round.

It was the next day when Edward stepped in. "You are making me dizzy Carlisle. Your words were true. Perhaps there are some things in life that are meant to remain mysteries. Love and women might fit that category."

I chuckled. "Just wait, one day you will meet someone who turns your head," I jarred at him.

"Better than you, old man," he joshed back.

"Perhaps love is better left for the young," I retaliated.

"Perhaps," was his cheeky reply before we both went back to reading our books.

After a short while I could not concentrate, so I went to my room to go through my mail. There were documents from my accountant and lawyer that needed to be handled, a listing of job openings, and then the letter from Miss Platt. I opened the envelope to be assaulted by her scent, although in a more diluted form that usual and containing odours unusual for her. She must not have held it long and my guess at the odours was confirmed in the letter's contents.

 _Dear Dr. Cullen,_

 _I am writing to inform you that I am with child set to be due late February 1921. We have settled in Duluth, Minnesota where Jeb has found a good position at the hospital and have recently found ourselves owners of a lovely home. We would be honoured to entertain you and your young gentleman if you find yourselves in the area._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Mrs. Holloway_

I sat staring at the words for hours frozen in place. I was happy for her. I was. I simply could not shake this feeling that there was something dreadfully wrong. With every fibre of my being I wanted to go to her and check on her. I am no longer her doctor I scolded myself. It is not my place. Yet, I did not move from my chair.

"I am going out," I heard Edward speak.

 _Be safe._ I thought back lifelessly as his footsteps into the forest could be heard.

Needing a distraction, I forced my brain to acknowledge more things in my line of sight than this letter. Hiding behind the letter I saw the job openings. It looked like there was one that said Ashland, Wisconsin. I put the letter down, put it to the side, and picked up the job listings. Sure enough there was a night shift emergency room temporary doctor's position available. Taking it as a sign, I carefully folded Miss Platt's letter into its envelope and put it in a drawer. Then I wrote Edward a note and headed into town. Finding the public box I called to inquire into the Ashland position.

Yes, they were still in need. No, it was not a problem that I had taken two years off to care for my nephew. Yes, they would be interested. They asked for me to mail them my curriculum vitae and reference contacts. I promised it would be in the post by the end of the night. I went back home grabbed what I needed, put it in an envelope with probably too many stamps and mailed it.

By the time I got home the second time, Edward was back.

 _I applied for a job. The position was exactly what I needed._ I mentally showed him the advertisement and the conversation I had the administrative individual at the hospital.

"I think I am ready," was Edward's reply.

 _You are too hard on yourself, Edward. We will get a place out of town. The question is if you believe yourself ready to go back to high school._

"You know my opinions about high school."

"I don't want to have the same circular conversation."

I could hear him sigh.

 _It is your decision. You do not have to go, but if you think you can handle the bloodlust, it would make things easier for the charade. Not to mention that you had yet to finish it before I turned you and I doubt you have retained all the details from those years. There is also a slight possibility that it might give you a few of your human memories from being in high school.  
_

"Yes, Carlisle, I remember," he grumbled.

There were these moments when he sounded twelve instead of seventeen.

"I do not sound twelve, Carlisle."

I chuckled. _If you say so, but then sometimes I sound twelve._

He chuckled. "Never; the great Doctor Carlisle Cullen, non-human drinking vampire extraordinary could not possibly sound twelve."

I laughed at his silliness.

 _Thank you._

"For what?" he asked sounding genuinely confused.

 _For making me laugh. I have not laughed before you came into my life in a long time._

"You are welcome," he replied shyly.

I felt the need to return to my letter from Miss Platt and reply. I wrote to her about the joys of having Edward in my life and how well he was doing. I congratulated her on being with child and all her recent life developments. I finished the letter with a quote from Mark Twain, "The two most important days in your life are the day you are born and the day you find out why."

It took less than a month for the Ashland hospital to officially hire me. Edward and I packed up everything and got ready to move. I asked the postmaster to hold onto the P.O. Box and I paid a fee to have everything forwarded to the central post office in Ashland.

October 1920 I returned to work. I found that I enjoyed the hospital more than I remembered. It was invigorating. Perhaps the time away had done me some good or perhaps it was simply Edward who had added vibrancy to my life. I was almost flawless with my thoughts at home, but not entirely. A few times Edward excused himself and needed to hunt. I would always apologize and continue my efforts. Keeping a hospital-free set of clothes in the car, I would change before I got home, usually in the woods. Then I had the dirty ones laundered in town. Rome was not built in a day. It was taking time, but slowly we were finding a way for me to work. I would have given up my work for longer if Edward had needed, but I was glad that it had not been necessary.

I never received a reply to my letter to Miss Platt, although I had not expected one. Pregnancy was a busy time for women and I was certain Miss Platt simply did not have an opportunity to respond. Settling into my new position kept me busy, but it did not stop me thinking about her. Her announcement had seemed to both solidify my assurance that I had made the best choice for us both, while it also increased the temptation to wonder if there had been another way. It was too late, I kept reminding myself. She was another man's wife and soon to be the producer of that man's child. Her friendship was the greatest possibility. Nevertheless, I could not completely stop my inappropriate wishes and irrational desires.

* * *

 _A/N:Esme being a talented artist was inspired by Miki In Blue Jeans story Faith & Love here on FF.  
_

 _Also, I wanted to take a moment and thank everyone who has taken the time to give me his or her thoughts. Feedback is one of my primary reasons for posting on FF, so it means a lot to me. Thank you!_


	5. Consequences

Beta: The incredible and amazing _kiwihipp_

(Updates 19 November 17)

* * *

 **Chapter 5: Consequences  
**

* * *

Months had passed and the winter that accompanies January had made itself apparent. The air was crisp with little moisture, the first like it since our arrival, when one day after work, on my way towards the library following my bench contemplations and prayers, the fierce wind brought with it a scent that was distinguishable in merely a drop: Miss Platt's. She was near enough to Ashland, or at least had been, to be carried on the wind. The very presence of that drop entering my mouth and moving into my lungs caused my body to slow and my mind to speed up.

Did I want to know what she was doing so nearby? Was it inappropriate to follow her scent? Certainly doing so would require my inhuman capacities and the desire stirred within me to track this drop was inhuman, but did that necessarily make following it immoral? My old adage that just because I could did not mean I should came to mind. Then there were others things to consider. Would she want to see me? Would following her trail be an invasion of her privacy? And most of all, was it the right thing to do? Once again I was at a crossroads, only this time there was nearly ten years of conversations and a friendship between us.

It was as if her scent became a question that I could not help but want to know the answer to; it was a magnetic force pulling me along its path. Using considerable mental prowess, aided by hundreds of years of hunting, my brain calculated the wind trajectory, speed, and the scent's strength. With each step my mind recalculated while I tried to slow myself down, think things through, and consider the risks. To use these skills that were usually only reserved to quench my thirst, as if she were something to hunt, concerned me. Despite my history of resisting human blood, I was deeply alarmed that with each step where these skills were being used to find a human could result in a reduction my self-control. The only solution I could conceive came from my years of being on guard from temptation: to not give myself fully to the tracking, to monitor myself at all times, and if I believed myself to be of danger to her, to simply walk away. If nothing else, I needed to ensure to appear human as I moved.

While moving I attempted to remain levelheaded. Certainly, Miss Platt's and my friendship through correspondence had done neither of us harm, and I could not deny her statements that my gift of being her benefactor had been a blessing to her. Simultaneously, any greater amount of interactions with her would put her in greater risk. While the positive aspects of our friendship gave me courage to follow the trail she had left behind, the knowledge that the distance between us had protected her slowed my steps. Distance meant that many things that might have otherwise given away my inhumanness were hidden away. Standing in contrast to my steps forward was the reality that she was married and with child. She had what exactly in her life those things that I had wished not to take away from her. Despite the sensations filling my body and pulling me towards her, I assured myself that I had made the right choice. Nonetheless, there was a tinge of disappointment within me, for as much as I attempted to set aside my sentiments as I had successfully done time and time again, I seemed unable.

How her scent called to me and how my body inclined itself in her direction were easily ignored in comparison to the fundamental pull that came not from my mind or my body's responses but from my heart. Every longing, every wish, every desire pummelled into me making it abundantly clear that they had, in fact, been festering within me all these years. Things I had believed to have only been a passing thought that had been easily dismissed, suddenly, became a cord on my heart and body tying me to her. The strong waves of emotions bombarding me seemed to care little for reason or her best interests.

Worse than these mental conundrums and moral reasonings, each step made it clearer and clearer to me that I had entirely misjudged my heart. It had wanted more than letters and a cordial acquaintance. It wanted intimacy, to know her heart and her mind in a deep and meaningful way. And thus, with each step I came to realize, one, that I knew little of the woman Miss Platt had become, thus had even more trepidation then when I had found her homestead, and, two, I wanted more of Miss Platt than I could ever ask of her, which filled me with sorrow. Time and time again she had been the one to offer a path that kept us connected and had offered to deepen that connection. At each offer I had been hesitant or refused. Perhaps she was a scorned woman who would want nothing to do with me.

Fortunately, my reactions seemed to steer clear of anything that might give my nature away. Thus, while my brain calculated how to find the next drop it also considered the pressings concern of my physical appearance. Thus, each step was a war of moving forward; the risk to her, to me, and to Edward; the risk this path intrinsically contained; and choosing the safer path or letting the trail go. With each step forward, in addition to everything else, I calculated how to age my appearance in order to keep her safe from my secret.

Her trail eventually led up the steps to a halfway house for widowed war heroes.

My first reaction was disappointment. Were we not at minimum friends? What did it say that her husband was deceased and she had failed to inform me? Or that she had not consulted me on financial matters that might have aided her in keeping the home that they had purchased, so that she might have a place to raise their child? Had I not made it clear to her my ability to aid her, if she needed it? Did she not consider our friendship the kind where she could confide in me? Was she too prideful to do so? Certainly I could have assisted her financially, instead of her being in this type of establishment. I did not want to imagine the kind of diseases she could be exposed to in a place such as this. She deserved better, as did her soon-to-be child.

Just as each step following her trail had brought more questions than answers and challenged me in every way, the location in which I found myself repeated this process, but in a deeper sense. I had to admit that I was hurt that she had failed to confide in me. Certainly I was not a relative, but if nothing else, I had hoped that she had known over all these years that my care for her to be genuine and my wish that she would have the best life possible to be heartfelt. It saddened me even deeper to consider that if she had not come to this town, I might have never learned of her plight at all. Although, keeping her business to herself was her prerogative, I left me dismayed in a degree that I had never known before.

A portly elderly lady, whom, I assumed, ran the establishment, shook me out of my surprised state. "What can I do you for?" she ask her voice harsh both in its tone, but also from her voice box, which I suspected indicated many long years of prolonged smoking.

Taking my eyes off the sign, I turned them towards the woman. "I apologize, ma'am," I spoke in my tone reserved for soothing the sometimes ruffled feathers of the rich who frequented hospital banquets and fundraisers. "I was told that my old acquaintance Miss Platt was living here." Then I caught myself. "Well, I suppose she would not go by Miss Platt anymore. Her Christian name is Esme." I chuckled at my faux pas.

"What she be looking like?" she woman asked a bit gentler this time.

"Well, from her last correspondence she was pregnant due in the next month or so, she has blue eyes and caramel hair. Regrettably, I cannot say much else since it has been ten years since I last laid eyes on her."

"I see," the woman stated as if contemplating something. "Well, if she were here, would you want to be giving her a message?"

"Yes, please," I agreed easily.

The issue of my age that I had attempted to find a solution to was front and centre. Would Miss Platt know when she saw me that I had not aged? Would she even remember me clearly? Human memories faded in time after all. Perhaps it would be best to leave no message. The ache in my heart at that thought demanded that I find a solution. While my feet had hunted her I had attempted to change my hairstyle in a poor attempt to age myself. Would it be enough? I could pass for being in my thirties after all, but then I had given documentation to the hospital claiming twenty-five in the hopes of giving Edward more time in one place, so that he could adjust to his new life. These twin thoughts warred within me for dominance. Perhaps keeping to our letters would be best.

"Well, then, what's the message?" the innkeeper asked her tone demonstrating irritation.

"My apologies. Would you tell her that her acquaintance, Dr. Cullen, presently is working the night shift at Ashland Memorial Hospital?" I told her before my concerns would win the battle over my heart's desires.

Even if I had to lie about my age, or appearance, if she raised the issue, which I loathed to do, ultimately it would be a meagre price to pay for the honour of standing in Miss Platt's presence once more. That seemed like enough. It would be up to Miss Platt to seek me out or not. Perhaps she would not want to see me in her grief. Nevertheless, I did not wish to leave.

"On you go. Don't want to be holding you up from your important matters. If I meet anyone matching who you'd be looking for, I'll pass on your message."

Yes, she was right. Lingering was not prudent. "Thank you kindly," I told her genuinely.

"Humph," I heard her mutter under her breath.

As I continued my walk, I debated about whether or not I should tell Edward. If I were to see Miss Platt in person, it would constitute a risk to all three of us. Consequently, it seemed only right that he should get to add his input. While winding my way back to the car and my drive home I kept trying to figure out what was it that I was hoping for, let alone how I should explain my behaviour to Edward. My tracking, despite not attending to the library, caused me to arrive home later than usual.

 _Edward?_ I asked as soon as I was in hearing distance of our home.

"In the lounge," he replied.

Parking the car, I travelled to the space he had claimed to be in, focusing my attention on what my senses were taking in.

 _"_ How was school?" I asked once I came upon him.

"The same," he answered gruffly obviously not wishing to speak more on the matter or irritated at me speaking to him aloud.

 _"_ Any better?" I pressed anyway.

"No," he stated briskly, then paused before continuing. "Marginally maybe, but not enough to be noticeable yet," he said in his more normal tone.

 _"_ Want to talk about it?" I checked.

"Not really. I just want to enjoy one voice instead of hundreds."

 _"_ Understandable; if you ever do want to talk about it, I am here for you," I assured him.

"Yes, I know," he answered sadly.

 _"_ Try not to be so hard on yourself, Edward. These things take time. Be patient with your progress. It is bound to be difficult."

"Yes, I know, but I cannot help but be impatient," he grumbled.

I chuckled. _That might be true of us all,_ I mused. "I need to talk to you about something," I informed him.

He straightened up and took his eyes from the book in his hand looking at me carefully.

"What, Carlisle?" he asked concern colouring his tone.

 _I ran across Miss Platt's scent today in town after work,_ I told him concentrating on each word rather than their meaning or the events that transpired. _  
_

"Did you find her?" he asked his tone conveying far more excitement and thrill about this news than I felt.

 _No._ Purposefully I retrieved from my memory the scene between the matron and myself.

Suddenly he looked crestfallen and serious. "Is that wise?"

I chuckled enjoying speaking what was the truth. "No, it is not at all."

Edward pondered for a few moments before speaking. "Be careful. Do _I_ need to remind _you_ about the rules?"

"You do not have any direct objections?" I checked surprised by his nonplussed reaction. "Certainly you have realised that this course of action effects you explicitly."

He chuckled. "You might consider me young, but I am not stupid Carlisle. Obviously there is inherent risk. I assume that you are aware of that and will take the steps necessary to keep her from finding out. Sam's Hill man, you have been doing this for hundreds of years and one girl has you doubting your capacities. What has the world come to?" By the end I was certain he was taking the Mickey out of me.

I laughed aloud at the irony of his statement. _I really am becoming an old man if I am losing my memory._

Edward laughed. After a few minutes he became serious again. "I might not like _what_ I am, but since that cannot be helped I would really rather not be ended so soon."

I nodded gravely. "I do not wish for that either," and then went about my afternoon finding comfort in the routine and Edward's presence.

"Be careful, Carlisle," Edward warned gravely as I walked out the door for work.

 _Always,_ I replied driving away.

Days passed in their habitual way without any sighting or scenting of Miss Platt. After a week I reluctantly concluded that whatever friendship I had believed we had must have been one sided. My disappointment at this development was strong, but equally intense was my gratitude that I would not need to navigate the tricky waters that were bound to develop if she had appeared. Neither eased the pain in my chest as if I had been cracked open. Edward equally forgave the repetitive nature of my thoughts and attempted to bring me out of them with good humour and well-timed distractions. I was never so appreciative of his presence.

Arriving at my customary time of thirty minutes early, ten days after I had discovered her scent, it was there again amidst everything else. My nervousness created strange sensations within me. I simultaneously wanted to run back home and run towards her. Instead I did neither and purposefully behaved as if nothing was different. My practice of doing so while at the hospital benefited me. As soon as I walked into the emergency room ward an admission nurse caught me.

"You have a visitor waiting," she informed me briskly as if offended by me having a guest.

"Would you send her to my office, please?" I asked her cordially curious at her demeanour.

"Certainly, Dr. Cullen," she said briskly before walking off.

Miss Platt would be the first to ever visit me at work. Any vampires would not have ventured into a hospital and would have instead met me in my home, especially given its remoteness. I was uncertain if I was ready to see Miss Platt, as I had no idea what to say to her, not to mention that I had never determined if my invitation had been a good idea to start with. My hope was that her memory of me was fleeting enough to not raise concerns or questions. Certainly her coming to my home might have allowed more leeway in altering my appearance, but I had rejected the idea fearful Edward might do something we would both regret, despite his impeccable control. Without doubt one thing had changed for both Miss Platt and I since we had last met–we both had others dependent on our choices.

With barely enough time to prepare there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in," I offered.

The doorknob turned and I was greeted with the most lovely creature I had ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on, outdoing even herself. My Miss Platt had not only grown lovelier, but her pregnancy made her shine like an angel. I was filled with a sense of contentment that I had never experienced before as if her very presence was home. The possibility that our letters had created within me a stronger sense of affection than I had previously believed seemed to be confirmed. I had no idea what to do with that information.

She seemed stuck in the doorway staring at me.

"Please come in, Miss Platt," I proposed.

She chuckled, which seemed to shake her from her state. "No one had called me that for years, Dr. Cullen _,_ " she told me stressing Dr. Cullen.

I smiled. "I suppose not."

She wobbled slightly into the office and sat in one of the chairs. If I had to guess, I would say she was four to five weeks from her due date.

"How are your parents?" I enquired.

Her face fell. "Father had an accident on the farm a year after I was married. I lived with them while Jeb was away."

Nodding I had assumed that she had stayed with them from the address.

"He never was the same after the accident and died a few months later. Mother passed on within the year of his death. I decided to sell the farm once Jeb returned. We used the money, along with a generous gift from his parents, to buy our house, furnish it, and secure a vehicle for Jeb."

Not sure what to say I simply nodded slightly waiting for her to go on.

"It is good to see you, Dr. Cullen. You always felt like my lighthouse in the storm."

I smiled saddened that she considered her life a storm. "I am glad. It is good to see you as well, Miss Platt. What are you doing here in our fine Ashland?"

"I got a job as a teacher. My education has been a life saver more than once."

"I never doubted you as an artist or teacher, Miss Platt," I told her sincerely.

"I know, Dr. Cullen. I know." She paused as if uncertain of what to say next. Eventually as the silence stretched out between us she said, "Well, you must be starting your shift soon."

I looked at my watch. "Actually ten minutes ago." I chuckled lightly shocked at how the time had been immeasurably slow and had gone too fast.

"I did not mean to hold you up," she apologized looking timid, scared. I did not like it. The Miss Platt I knew was daring and brazen.

"Do not be. It is my own fault," I assured her. Pausing to think and then, like when I ventured towards her childhood home, I took the riskier road. "Miss Platt, after I get off work I go to Prentice Park on Front Street and sit on one of the benches over looking the lake and review my day before I head home. I will be there this Saturday until eleven a.m. if you choose to join me."

"I will be there," was her reply.

"See you then, Miss Platt."

"Until then Dr. Cullen," she responded.

"Can you find your way out?" I enquired of her as I opened the door on her behalf.

"Yes, not a bother," she stated too quickly.

"All right," I relented, "I had better go start my rounds."

"Cannot keep those sixteen-year-olds waiting," she stated seriously her eyes sparkled with mischief but there was something else there that I could not name.

"No, I could not do that." I smiled and then headed out.

I did not tell Edward about my meeting with Miss Platt, as I was trying to keep the hospital images out of my mind. Strangely the days following Miss Platt's visit left me restless, much as I had been on the last day before she had been discharged. Saturday could not come soon enough. I finished up my Friday night shift and rather than staying, rushed out to my bench waiting for her. I went through my patients, offered my prayers, and then began to wonder what I was going to say to Miss Platt, assuming she kept her word and showed.

It was a little after nine when her scent waffled to me. Not long after I saw her waddle towards me.

We spent hours waxing philosophically before her stomach started making uncomfortable noises.

"Are you alright, Miss Platt?" I asked searching her face.

She remained stoic for a moment as if trying to hold in a dam, and then suddenly her face morphed into immeasurable sorrow. She put her hands to her face covering her eyes. "No, Dr. Cullen. I really am not alright."

I did not expect that response. "Want to share?" I asked softly not sure what else to say.

She took in a deep breath. "Jeb came back from the war different. I think he saw things that haunted him. He is a good man, but broken."

Holding my tongue, having had too many women come into the emergency with this story, I knew what was coming.

"I never had bruises. He knew enough not to do that, but he drank. I know it was my place to stay. He provides well enough and many women have it far worse then me, but eventually I could not take it. I do not want my baby to grow up in that environment, so I ran away. I lied and changed my name so Mrs. Potter would take me."

"What would be the proper name to call you by in company, then?" I asked.

"Mrs. Schultz," she informed me with a touch of sadness in her tone.

"Mrs. Schultz?"

"Yes, it was my neighbour's name who was sweet to me and it is common enough in these parts that it hides me well," she explained.

"I see," I told her wishing there was something I could do to aid her. "Do you expect your husband to come looking for you?"

She eyed me like she had when I had asked about her studying architecture in college. "I suspect that I have embarrassed him and his family. People in that society do not take well to being embarrassed."

I had to agree with her, but said nothing for a few moments considering the ramifications of her confession. I did not like the idea of the risk this placed her in, but neither could I be her bodyguard. "So, you intend to hide and raise your child alone?" I checked.

"Yes, I will say I am a widow. It is common enough," she stated sadly.

"That it is," I agreed still trying to envisage of how I might assist her. Every idea I conceived placed her at greater risk unless I became her benefactor once more, but at her age not to mention since she was still married, made it seem like an indecent proposal.

After a few minutes she asked, "I have a question that I need an answer to Dr. Cullen. Can you promise me to answer honestly?"

I froze. It depended. I could not really promise that. "I will do my best," I offered.

She nodded like that was good enough. She turned and looked at me straight in the eyes. "Why did you tell my Dad that being my benefactor was the most you could offer me?"

My brain could not work. Her reaction all those years ago suddenly made sense. She had been in shock. It was a strange sensation and a first for me.

"Did your father never say?" I asked prodding gently when I regained my senses.

She shook her head her eyes watering.

"I explained to him that I cannot father children."

"Oh!" Her eyes widened. "Oh," she repeated this time with sadness coating her tone. After many minutes she asked, "With certainty?"

"Absolute," I told her sincerely.

She nodded in understanding. She seemed to be thinking.

Waiting I enjoyed watching her expressions.

"Forgive my boldness, Dr. Cullen, but are you saying that if that had not been the case, you might have entertained the idea of courting me?"

"No one has been a closer prospect than you, Miss Platt," I told her diplomatically unwilling to hurt her like my last rejection had.

Minutes passed between us; we each seemed content in the other's presence. "I would not have minded so much," she stated while she watched the water.

"Perhaps, but your father would have."

She took that in. "Yes," she relented. "My father would have."

"Instead, I did the most I could."

She smiled. "My mother always said that you fancied me."

"A keen eye and a wise woman was your mother."

"About that, anyway," she agreed reluctantly.

I smiled ruefully. What did I know about her mother? I had spoken less than a dozen sentences to the woman.

Her stomach made itself known again.

"May I have the honour of getting you fed?" I asked hoping she did not mind the change in topic.

She smiled sadly. "Yes, Dr. Cullen. How about a delicatessen? I will need to lie down soon."

"Lovely idea. Do you know one you would recommend?"

"I do, in fact."

"Lead on, then," I instructed.

This time her smile filled her face.

I offered her my elbow confident that the layers I had on including my gloves would hide my skin's temperature, which she took leading me to her delicatessen. I ordered what she did on the pretext of wanting to try it.

We were parting ways when she asked, "Will you be there next Saturday?"

"Yes, I have another Friday evening shift next week," I informed her.

"In that case, unless I am in the hospital myself, I will see you next Saturday."

"Next Saturday, then. Have a good week, Miss Platt."

"You as well, Dr. Cullen," was her farewell.

Walking back to my car, I thought over what she had revealed. It was not a terribly uncommon story, but in my imagination she had always been happy. I was shattered to find out that had not been the case.

Edward greeted me with asking shrilly, "What is that smell?"

I tried to discover what he was on about; I had changed my clothes as usual. What else could it be?

"Human food," I answered ruefully finally figuring it out.

"Thought so. Why Carlisle are you bringing home human food in a bag?"

He had come to me in the entranceway looking at me puzzled.

"I bought one for Miss Platt. I had to appear as if I was hungry as well."

"You did not it eat, did you?"

"No, Edward," I told him evenly.

He evaluated me. "What is wrong? You look awful."

Immediately my mind opened up and replayed Miss Platt's and my complete conversation. "I just always thought she was happy. I had not imagined …"

"We are going hunting," Edward demanded.

He pulled my arm through the back door and into the forest until I was running without his tugging. It felt good to run. I caught the scent of a deer. _I am going to take that one,_ I told him

"Fine by me, I want something tastier anyway."

I smiled. Edward really did not like deer.

Finding a buck I snapped his neck and drank slowly savouring and enjoying God's provision. As always I thanked the Creator. Edward had asked me one time why I offered my gratitude. I had explained why I was appreciative and why I thought it was important to honour and show thanks for the creature that died so that we might live. He had shaken his head, but had said nothing.

I sat on a boulder waiting for Edward. He had been right; I felt calmer, although the pain in my chest was just as present. Just hours ago we had both agreed that a courting would not have been possible. There simply had been things out of our control, as there were presently. The events that Miss Platt had shared were not my responsibility. Even in that moment, being more aware of the strong connection I felt to her and knowing her past, I was loathed to consider changing her. Edward would have died. That was not the case for Miss Platt. Not to mention that she was pregnant and soon a small human would need her. Disappointed but knowing it was the right option, I concluded that I could only be her friend and benefactor. Clearly this was the path God had meant for us despite the pull she created within me.

I thanked God over and over for all that I had learned from Miss Platt and how she had enriched my life. I thanked God for the opportunity to see her once again. I thanked God for Edward and how much happiness he had brought me, my gratitude for him following my diet, and what a good heart he had. I prayed for God to give him strength to handle his gift that often felt like a curse. Then I started with my first patient and prayed for each of them. I was only halfway through when Edward joined me.

"You know that it is almost time for you to leave for work again?" he asked teasingly.

 _Thank you, Edward. You were a Godsend today._

He nodded. "Race you home?"

"You are on," and then I sprinted away knowing that even with my head start he might beat me.

"Try again, old man," he teased as he passed me only a hundred yards from the back door.

I gathered my things and headed out.

 _Thank you again, Edward. Be well tonight. See you tomorrow._

"Be safe," I heard him just before I went out of range.

That exchange became what passed between us each night in the weeks following. It was if we both knew we were on the edge of a precipice and any moment things might tumble down.

The next Saturday I met up with Miss Platt and we talked about Plato and Aristotle, the War and its consequences, women's rights, and all the things we used to write about. After the fifth Saturday, our conversations had a similar banter that had given me my original belief that we were friends. Whatever strains the past had put on us were gone. Two weeks later when we were leaving the park Miss Platt stopped her progression.

"The baby is late, Dr. Cullen. If it does not come on its own in the next week, they are going to have to force the situation," she stated in a dry tone.

This was risky for the baby and mother. They would only do that if it were absolutely necessary.

"I want you to promise something," she continued.

I nodded waiting.

"I want you to promise that if it does not go well for me that you will care for the infant," she told me softly but with a tone of almost pleading.

My face fell. "You cannot ask this of me Miss Platt."

"I have no one else," she said despondently and with fear.

"How about I do everything in my extensive knowledge as a doctor to ensure you live?" I replied.

She looked at me wearily. Her appearance was similar to patients who did not believe in the possibility of their own survival. It was always, no matter what, a heartbreaking expression, but on her it seemed to make the world stop spinning. Then she nodded.

In order to keep my promise I worked every day that week arriving as early as possible and staying as long as possible. In order to excuse my excess work I took on hours from the other doctors telling them that I was looking for some extra experience. The excuse worked well and no one asked questions. Additionally, I kept an eye on the patient board. My precautions worked as Miss Platt went into labour before the week was out.

Wednesday night she was rushed in with haemorrhaging. Although the situation was dangerous, the hour in which she arrived gave me a sense that God was ensuring that I would be able to keep my promise. She had been rushed in and the closest doctor had taken her case. However, as soon as her scent came to me I walked towards the operating room where they had placed her. My concern only grew the closer I came, since the baby's pulse was dropping rapidly. Without asking I scrubbed up and walked in.

Right before entering I caught a whiff of her blood under the bleach where the orderly had been cleaning. It was the most scrumptious flavour I had ever come across and the first to catch my attention in over seven decades. Consequently, as a precaution, I entered the room holding my breath. As I was the most senior doctor in the room, I led the caesarean section giving short directions only when required. Right before we cut her open I asked God to forgive me for damaging Miss Platt, and then I did all that was necessary to save her and her child.

Fortunately, the baby was removed with little complication. However, the little boy Platt came out blue and his lungs were weak. Therefore, before she was given the opportunity to hold him an obstetrician did a thorough check and attempted to help the child functional normally. The prognosis was tentative.

Making sure to repair everything I could see, I sewed up Miss Platt. Despite my effort, she had lost a lot of blood. She was severely weakened. After leaving the room, I went to the rooftop taking in deep cleansing breaths, thanked God for His grace, and prayed that Miss Platt would survive my hand. I finished my shift, but could not get myself to leave the hospital. When it seemed like an hour appropriate for her to be awake I walked close enough to the ward to pick up the unique heartbeat that was Miss Platt's. With each step towards her I debated the merit of visiting her unable to calm my nerves, ultimately deciding that a short visit would not be out of order.

"Good morning, Mrs. Schultz," I offered her from the end of her bed reminding me of how we had met.

"Good morning, Dr. Cullen," she replied groggily. "We meet again." Then there was a long pause as I waited. "What did I have?" she asked in an almost incoherent manner.

"A little boy," I told her as I smiled.

She smiled back. "Carlisle, Jr. or do you have a middle name?"

I grinned widely at her teasing. "If I do, I have properly forgotten it by now," I replied my English accent coming out strongly. I did not think I had a middle name, anyway.

Despite the curtain dividing her from the other patients, it seemed that our exchange had garnished at least the attention of her neighbour.

"When can I see him?" she asked seriously her face clearly showing her concern.

"As soon as a nurse can take you," I told her. "He is quite sick, and is in the children's ward."

She nodded solemnly.

"My shift has ended. Will you be all right for a while? I will be back tonight," I let her know.

"When do you sleep?" she asked her tone slightly playful.

"I had to keep my promise," was my only reply. "Have a good day," I offered as I left the room.

"Have a good day, Dr. Cullen," I heard her offer back in a sweet whisper.

I was having a hard time not thinking about Miss Platt even though I was near to home, so instead of my usual mental exercise on focusing on the moment I distracted myself with reciting Danto's Inferno in the original Italian.

"That is new," Edward greeted me.

"I had a difficult day at work and it was this or images of pints of blood." Even to my ears I sounded defeated.

"Miss Platt?"

"Miss Platt."

"Will she live?"

"She is weak. A transfusion would probably be wise, but this hospital is still uncertain about the idea, so they will not sanction it. Too risky, they say. The baby is even weaker. They are afraid he will not last the night."

Edward shook his head. "I do not envy you, Carlisle. I do not know how you do it."

"By God's grace," I told him sincerely.

He smiled ruefully.

"Last time you dragged me outside. I thought this time I would go without the extra nudge."

Edward smiled. "Race you," he offered and was off.

I ran after him. After a few miles, I began to feel calmer. _I found a buck I want,_ I let Edward know.

"Have it. See you in our regular spot," he informed me.

I hunted patiently wanting to watch the glory of creation not really thirsty. The creature that I had found really was beautiful. I tried to not take does until I knew they were older. Bucks were fair game in my book. Coming out behind a tree we stared at each other until he bolted. I was faster. Then I thanked God for supplying to me exactly what I needed. When I got to our boulder Edward was already there.

 _You did not find anything you liked?_ I asked him.

"I was not in the mood," he retorted.

I eyed him wondering what happened to the Edward who always was interested in running and hunting.

"Miss Platt," was his answer to my unspoken question.

"If we talk about this, I might not be able to hold the images at bay," I warned him.

"Was it bad?"

"Very," I confirmed.

I watched him wince.

"I am sorry. I cannot always control it yet."

"I know, Carlisle. I was warned and am in a forest."

I nodded at his precautions.

"God took my parents, Carlisle, and my mother saw it fit to beg you to change me. I was nearly a man. There is no good situation here unless they both die. If the baby dies the mother will be distraught. If the mother dies the baby will have no one to care for it."

"I always knew that my friendship with her would end. She is human after all, but I had always imagined that happening in another twenty years. If that were not bad enough, she asked me to take him if she passed. Suddenly what I am losing feels so much greater." The memory flicked through my mind as I made the statement.

Edward took in a gasp of air. Then he shook his head. "I do not envy you Carlisle. It was an impossible request."

 _Yes, although she did not know it._ I sighed. "I promised to save her instead."

He nodded. He must have seen this in my memory.

"She is weak and I could not have known that the baby would be born weak. I have failed them both," I confessed feeling wretched.

"Carlisle, is it not you that once told me that doctors are not God and cannot decide who lives or dies?" he asked daringly.

A smile at his cheekiness threatened. "Yes, it sounds like something I might say."

"Anyway, old man, assuming she lives, she can get pregnant again. She will move on," he stated authoritatively.

"Not all humans move on, Edward," I corrected him gently.

He looked at me incredulously.

"I have seen it. Sometimes their grief overwhelms their survival instinct and they die. It can happen."

He shook his head. "Could that happen to us?" he asked fearfully.

 _I honestly do not know, but Marcus never got over the death of his mate, even though it was over a thousand years ago._

His jaw dropped open.

 _Do not underestimate love, Edward, especially the love of a mother for a child. It is powerful._

He nodded solemnly knowing that his mother's love for him had influenced my choice to change him. "I think I will hunt after all," he told me with a deeply sad tone.

 _See you at the house, then?_ I asked with concern.

"If you have not left already by the time I get back," he informed me briskly letting me know that he did not want to talk about it.

Letting the subject go, I headed back to the house. Edward's change had yet to become something he was willing to discuss. Hopefully one day he would be ready.

Truly, I could not ask for a better companion than Edward. The risk I took to change him was plain. To see him following my diet and respecting humans, despite leaving him home alone for hours after only three and a bit years was impressive, especially given his gift. I was certain it was his gift that caused him to need to hunt more than me. It drained him and blood was the only thing that replenished our systems.

Going to my desk I took care of some important papers. I decided to go into town early in order to inform Mrs. Potter of Miss Platt's whereabouts and present condition. Once again she came out before I made it up the stairs.

"She's not here," she greeted me.

"Yes, ma'am. She was admitted to the hospital last night. I came by because I thought you would like to know that both she and the baby are not well."

She nodded thoughtfully. "What she have?" she asked after a few minutes.

"A boy." I smiled at the memory of Miss Platt's teasing.

"A girl would have been better," she mumbled. She looked at me. "Well, you tell her that she still has rent to pay even if she be paying to sleep at the hospital."

This woman's attitude astounded me. Certainly, I could not have Miss Platt out on the street.

"How much will it cost to cover Miss Platt's bills through the end of the month and to the end of next month?" I asked her.

She eyed me sceptically. "$100," she answered firmly after some consideration.

That seemed a little steep for a room in a house, but what did I know of such things? I took out five $20 bills and handed it over. "I do not want Mrs. Schultz under any undo stress," I told her keeping eye contact and using the tone of my voice that aided in persuading humans.

She nodded her head enthusiastically up and down. Hopefully my use of persuasion was not too much.

Sighing I headed back to the car arriving an hour early to my shift. After getting ready for the day, I went to check on Miss Platt. She was not in her room, so I followed her scent finding her in the nursery.

"How is he?" I asked her when I drew near enough for her to hear me.

"They are not sure he will make it," she replied sombrely her voice wistful.

Putting my hand on her shoulder, I tried to convey my sympathy, "I am so sorry."

She nodded.

"Do you forgive me?" I eventually asked subdued.

"There is nothing to forgive. You are not God," she replied impassively.

I stood there for over ten minutes reeling from the fact that Edward and her had basically admonished me similarly. Eventually I went and got a chair hoping doing so would make her more comfortable.

After sitting for a few minutes watching her out of the corner of my eye, I let her know, "I stopped by Mrs. Potter's. I thought you would appreciate me letting her know."

She nodded. "Yes, thank you," she said lifelessly.

Despite her tone, I carried on, "She indicated towards the end of the conversation that I needed to remind you that rent was still due on the room, even if you were paying to sleep here."

She began to smile. "She did now?" she asked her tone playful even if there was no strength in the words.

"Yes," I answered sincerely confused as why this comment had made her smile. Continuing I told her, "I paid the bill through the end of next month, so you do not have to worry about it."

Her smile was filling her face.

I did not know what was so funny.

"How much did you pay?" She looked like she was about to break into a laughing fit sounding almost like herself.

"$100," I answered seriously.

"$100! You paid Mrs. Potter $100 for a little less than six weeks rent?" she exclaimed.

I nodded wondering if Miss Platt was having a hysterical fit as her doing so would be reasonable given recent events.

She began laughing uncontrollably. It filled her whole frame and she shook with the force of it.

"Oh," laughing more, "Dr. Cull–," more laughing. The more she continued to speak and laughed instead the more irritated I got not understanding and becoming concerned about this reaction.

Miss Platt must have read my ire, because she calmed down enough to speak to me. "My dear Dr. Cullen, Mrs. Potter was pulling your leg. Her message was her form of joking. I already paid through the month." Already there was mirth in her eyes again. "And it is $1 a day." She broke into laughter again.

"My accountant usually handles these types of things," I tried to explain flustered.

She put her hands on my arm. "If it cost you $100 to see me laugh, was it worth it?"

I thought about it. "Yes."

"Then Mrs. Potter deserves her money for her magic of comical relief. Thank you Dr. Cullen, I needed a good laugh, although I am sorry it was at your expense."

I did not understand how it was comical, but had to agree it had been worth the money to see her laugh.

"I need to start my shift," I informed her. "If I have a break, I will come by and check on you."

She nodded her continence returning to her half-empty self and went back to staring at her baby lying in the nursery.

Walking away I heard her whisper, as if to herself, "I know you did your best, Dr. Cullen. Some things are merely out of our hands."

I did not know what to make of her words exactly. I appreciated that she was letting me know that she did not hold me responsible for the current state of her son, but why whisper it? By the time I had a break, it was too late to visit. Although I would have preferred to watch her sleep, I spent my time going through her baby's file spending most of my time tying to find the file.

"Baby boy Schultz is this one," the nurse eventually pointed out.

"Thank you for your help," I told her before walking off.

If Miss Platt had been serious about her joke, the baby would be named Carlisle. It was not my child I kept reminding myself. I wondered if her intent to name him Carlisle was to make it difficult for me to say no regarding caring for the child on the chance that she had not made it. I shuddered at the thought. It was as if this woman knew all my weak spots. She was dangerous to me, but I had always known that.

By the end of my shift Baby Schultz prognosis was worse. All that could have been done for him had been. Bar a miracle, he would not last through another night.

I sat on my bench longer than usual trying to understand what God was trying to teach me through these events. I felt like a small boat lost at sea. Somehow without me knowing Miss Platt had become my harbour. What would happen when she lost the baby? I was strong, the Good Lord knew I was strong, but my strength could not protect her from this loss.

I dragged my feet but made it home with very little time before needing to head back.

 _How was school today, Edward?_

"High school minds are vulgar especially the boys. It is getting easier to have it all be background, but if someone thinks loudly it pushes back through. It is all highly irritating."

 _Sounds like you are making progress_ , I reflected.

"If by progress that I have weeded out all the minds except the loudest most vulgar ones, then yes, I have made progress," he grumbled.

 _There is no need to be so hard on yourself; these things take years, sometimes decades. You are making great progress._

"What's wrong?" he demanded.

I looked at him quizzically.

"Your inner voice has a timbre. It changes with mood. You are upset. What is wrong?"

"Is that just with me or with everyone?" I asked curiously.

"I have only taken to studying you," he grinned cheekily. "Spill the beans."

 _Miss Platt's baby prognosis is not good. It is doubtful he will make it through the night,_ I told him with a sigh.

"Oh my," he muttered grievously. So many emotions flittered through Edward's face until he looked gloomier than I had ever seen him.

"What are you thinking, Edward?" I prompted him.

"A mother does not wish to outlive her child. My mother proved that conclusively."

I put my hand on his shoulder, "She loved you and wished you to survive."

He nodded solemnly his face filled with sorrow, regret, and something else I could not name. Eventually he looked up at me his features calming. "Are you going to hunt with me?"

"No not today, but I will run with you shortly."

"Agreed," and then he bolted.

I ran just enough that a lot of my pent up energy was released. At that point I turned back to face another shift.

Even though I was an hour early, there was an emergency as I came in and my help was requested. By the time I finished the surgery and my rounds it was almost midnight. I needed to see Miss Platt, even if it was to know she was resting. I pulled back the curtain. She looked horrible. If were not for her heartbeat and breathing, I might have mistaken her for a corpse.

"Dr. Cullen?" she whispered.

"Yes, Mrs. Schultz, I am here," I reassured her.

"They let me hold Carlisle. He is not going to make it. I said goodbye," she told me defeated.

"I am so sorry," I told her earnestly. "Get some sleep. I will come by in the morning."

"Good night, Dr. Cullen," she mumbled.

"Good night," I whispered back.

We had one more emergency come in. Other than that the night was relatively calm. Going and visiting Baby Schultz, I knew that he had nothing but my namesake. Yet, it saddened me that he was leaving this earth. He was gone by the end of my shift. Checking on Miss Platt, if possible, she looked worse. When I came in she stared at the wall and did not even turn over to greet me.

"I will see you tonight, Mrs. Schultz," I promised as I laid a hand on her arm.

I had been at crossroads before. Miss Platt brought me to this place of crossroads, of the choice between reason and something more. Ultimately, this time it was not just my choice. Needing to talk to Edward, I left my bench and took what seemed to be the longest journey of my life. When I arrived he was in school. I thought through all that I would need to do depending on Edward's opinions. I prepared myself, as much as possible, for the conversation that lay ahead and its impact to our future.


	6. Choices

Beta: The incredible and amazing _kiwihipp_

(Updated 25 November 2017)

* * *

 **Chapter 6: Choices  
**

* * *

"What happened?" Edward greeted me curtly as soon as I walked through the door.

With a heavy heart I told him, "The baby passed. Miss Platt is dying. She is giving up."

"Are you sure?" he pressed me his disbelief apparent.

 _Yes._ Before I could manage my thoughts an image of the last conversation I had with Miss Platt flittered through my mind.

"She looks deader than us," he commented in surprise.

I nodded. _Yes._

"You want to change her?" he asked challenging me to refute him.

"Yes," I told him. Focusing on my senses, I attempted to order my thoughts, _but it will be her choice. I would have given you the choice if you had not been so delirious. Your mother made the choice on your behalf. And I am sorry for that._

He looked at me bashfully, "I know Carlisle. She wanted me to live."

 _She did. Still, I wish._

"This is not about me," he bristled. "Will the transition be made easier if she has the choice?"

 _I cannot say. My reasons for wanting to do so are selfish. Simply I am loathed to do to her what was done to me. I would rather give Miss Platt the choice than force this life upon her; perhaps for no other reason that to assuage my own conscience.  
_

He nodded solemnly. "And she is dying."

"Yes, and there is that," I agreed heavily. Despite my effort, I had not saved either of them.

"We would have to move," he pointed out.

 _Yes_ I agreed curious of his thoughts on this matter.

"And we would have two years or so of taking care of a newborn?"

 _Yes, perhaps less, depending,_ I concurred.

"Are you sure this is the right choice?" he asked gravely.

 _No, I do not, Edward. The truth is that making rational choices_ _ _seems particularly difficult for me_ when it comes to Miss Platt. I do not know what is right when it comes to her._

"Do you love her?" he asked gently his features sympathetic and yet reserving something I could not decipher.

Pondering I tried to order my thoughts, but it did not work, so I just spoke, "My attachment to her is greater than before she came back into my life, but love? I do not know anymore than when you asked the question the first time. I just know that I do not want to lose her. The thought of being without her pains me."

"I want to meet her first," he insisted staring me down as if daring me to refuse him this.

Looking at him puzzled I questioned him, _How would you suggest doing that? She is a patient. She just had surgery. She will not be released for another week at least._

I watched Edward's face contort as he desperately tried to find a solution to his request. Then his eyes opened up wide like he had just the best idea. "What about the chapel?"

 _The chapel?_ Sometimes I wondered where he got his ideas. I shook my head indulgently. He really was brilliant.

"Sure. It is near the west entrance. There is a door directly from the outside into the chapel."

Smiling I had to know, _And you know this, how?_ I raised an eyebrow.

"I might have gone to the hall of records and looked at the original blueprint in order to better understand what I saw from the mental flashes from you," he admitted looking skittish yet smug.

I considered saying something, but as he had not been detected and his reasoning was sound, if not risky, I said nothing focusing instead on his request regarding Miss Platt. _You would have to come with me one night and return on foot._

"I expected as much," he replied easily.

 _In that case I will speak to Miss Platt about a meeting._

He looked excited but nervous like he was afraid that she might not approve of him. "Good, I need to run. Want to come?" he asked.

I considered briefly asking him about his look, but decided to let him be, hopeful that he would speak to me about such matters if he needed. "Yes, I need to head out in an hour, though."

"First to the crest is the winner," he shouted as he darted in the direction he just said.

Spending time together in this manner was good for the both of us.

 _I cannot promise that she will agree to meet you, but either way I will let you know when I get home tomorrow_ I told him on my way out for work.

"Yes, I am aware," he grumbled at me.

Chuckling at him indulgently, I headed out. On my drive in I attempted to consider how I might broach such a topic.

Once my shift preparations were complete, I went and found Miss Platt.

"Evening, Dr. Cullen," she greeted me as soon as my hand touched the curtain like she had once when she was sixteen, even though this time she was facing the wall.

"Good evening, Mrs. Schultz. How are you feeling this evening?"

"The same," came her muted reply.

"I have spoken to Edward about you, Mrs. Schultz, and he has asked if he might have the honour to meet you."

She slowly turned over as if her movement pained her and studied my face. "Why would he want to do that?" she asked breathlessly but even so I could hear her confusion and surprise.

"Presumably because I have spoken very highly of you," I told her while asking God for forgiveness for telling her this half-truth.

"Let me think about it," she finally told me sounding empty.

"Very well, sleep well," I relented knowing pushing the matter would do no good.

"Goodnight, Dr. Cullen," she told me as she turned back to the wall.

The night was busy and I had no spare time until the wee hours, so instead of visiting Miss Platt I went and found where baby boy Schultz's body was being kept until the funeral and said a prayer. After my shift ended, I went back to her room.

"Good morning, Mrs. Schultz," I told to her after pulling back the curtain, but she barely registered my presence.

"Yes, I will meet him," she told the wall softly.

"Thank you for agreeing to this," I told her earnestly. "Would tonight be agreeable?" I asked hesitantly.

"Yes, I am agreeable to that," she stated defeated as if doing so had stolen all of her energy.

"Thank you. Have a good day," I said before closing the curtain behind me.

Leaving the hospital my continence felt heavy, even though she had agreed. The brazen daring tree-climber I had known seemed gone. Would she have been better off if we had courted? But then I wouldn't have Edward in my life. I consoled myself with the thought that everything happens for a reason, yet I could not help but wonder if I had a hand in her present state.

Bypassing my usual routine I headed straight home. Arriving I greeting Edward with _I need to run and clear my head._ We said nothing more and simply moved at our bodies' desired speed keeping up with one another. When I knew we needed to return home I simply turned around. The whole time I had replayed my interactions with Miss Platt while nothing else was said between Edward and I.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I acknowledged that running had helped, as had the scents of the forest, but once we got into the car our individual as well as combined nervousness seemed to only increase. While driving I would look at Edward through the corner of my eye, and he would nod in response. His look told me that he was focusing on taming his gift.

Parking in the staff parking lot, I checked, "You still want to go through with this? _"_

He nodded holding his breath presumable to use his air for when he met her.

Going to my office, I got ready for work, and then went to find Miss Platt. Entering her room, she was in the exact same position she had been when I had left her this morning. I doubted she had eaten anything all day and given her state, possibly not drank anything either.

"Mrs. Schultz, Dr. Cullen here. My Edward is still hoping to make your acquaintance. He braved coming into the city in the hopes that you would be wiling to come down," I let her know speaking softly.

She turned around even more slowly than she had last night and looked at me with big eyes.

"Please, Mrs. Schultz, it would mean a lot to him," I implored her.

She simply nodded, turned her legs, and got out of bed. I offered her my elbow until we got to her into a wheelchair, and then pushed her into the chapel.

Edward was standing in the back corner. As soon as he saw us, he came over.

"Good afternoon, Miss Platt. It is good to finally meet you, despite the circumstances," he told her soothingly.

She looked at him and seemed pleased at his words her body relaxing some.

"I had hoped that we would meet after you were back at home, but Carlisle tells me you are not doing well and this might be my only chance. I did not want to pass it up," he told her standing a little over three feet from her.

She relaxed even more. "You have made him happy," she stated breathlessly as if talking hurt, but with a questioning intonation at the end.

He smiled his crooked smile. "I try," he told her and then moved a foot closer and squatted down in front of her.

Irrationally, my first reaction at his proximity to her was to push him away and protect her from him. As soon as the image and desire came within me, I pushed it aside. Edward went to high school. He would be fine; he would never hurt her.

Edward looked up at me and raised his eyebrow.

Shrugging I reminded him, _I told you I am not rational around her. I never have been able to explain it. I trust you. It was an involuntary response._

He nodded his understanding while his eyes went back to her.

With seemingly great effort she moved her chair closer to him and reached out to put her hand on his cheek.

Edward tensed holding himself in place.

"He needs someone. He was so sad and alone when we met. You have done him wonders," Miss Platt told him generously.

He smiled shyly and looked bashful. "Thanks." He stood up while stepping back.

I looked at him. _Do I have your blessing?_

He nodded.

 _Are you sure?_

He looked at me as if daring me to challenge him. "Carlisle, I am certain. I need to head home now." He looked back down at Miss Platt. "It was wonderful to meet you." He paused thoughtfully. "I hope you say yes. He feels the same." And with that he walked out the side door.

Slowly I wheeled her around and headed back to the elevator.

"He is a little odd," she said contemplatively.

"Yes, I think I mentioned in a letter of his struggles."

"Yes, I remember. It does not prepare you for the real thing," she mused.

"No, it never does," I agreed.

We walked a bit further.

"Dr. Cullen, this is not the way to my room. Where are you taking me?" she asked with a slight playful tone similar to the one I remembered from our first encounter, but the lack of strength to it make it sound almost weary. The contrast to the young woman I knew was distressing.

Perhaps meeting Edward had done her some good as is was the most she had spoken to me since her son's death.

"To a quiet place where we can talk. I have about an hour," I told her solemnly.

She nodded whether in resignation or trust it was hard for me to say.

I took her to a small back office where we would not be bothered.

Once the door was closed and we were settled, I spoke to her gently, "Miss Platt I want to tell you something."

She nodded for me to go ahead the glum expression she had worn present in her features, but her eyes held something they had not in a while, curiosity.

Gathering my courage, I decided to cut to the chase. "You do not want to live anymore?" I questioned with as much tenderness as I knew how to convey.

She looked into my eyes and tears began to roll down her cheeks. "No," she exhaled so softly that the sound was quieter than the person in their office more than fifty feet away. She paused significantly looking down at her hands telling me faintly, "If only there was any other way, but I just do not see it. It took every bit of strength I had to leave Jeb. I did it for my son, and now he is gone. It is not that I wish to die as much as I do not have the strength to live."

I searched her. "Are you sure?"

"I simply do not have the motivation to fight, Dr. Cullen, to hide myself and to form a new life. I am too tired. For your sake, I am sorry for that, but at least you have Edward now. I always worried about you." Her tone was sad and hopeless, but at least she spoke firmly.

"And I you." I smiled back sadly. "There is something I would like to tell you, but once the words are spoken you are required to die. Not straight away, but soon enough and there is no going back."

Her eyes grew wide her features taking on her curiosity. "You seem quite serious about this," she said frowning searching my face after a few moments.

"I am Miss Platt," I told her gravely. "You can always say no and my secret will remain just that. The choice is completely yours."

Her lips pursed. We sat there with her lost in thought for a long while and then unexpectedly she nodded her head the smallest of amounts.

"Are you sure?" I verified.

Her heart sped up and adrenaline hit her system giving all the indications of being scared. "Yes, I am sure," she told me while keeping eye contact reminding me of how brave she had been when I had attended her to her broken leg.

Nodding grimly I took in a deep breath and enjoyed for a brief second the sensation of coming home that her scent gave me.

"I am not human, Miss Platt."

Her eyes widened slightly, but nodded like she already knew that. Her body began to calm itself and the edges of her mouth inched upwards as if my words had pleased her.

I continued after a moment, "There are rules. If a human knows the secret, there are two options: death or to be changed and become like me."

Her face contorted digesting this information. "I could become like you?"

"Yes. It is not an easy life, Miss Platt. And you have to die first. It is excruciatingly painful as if lava were flowing through your veins."

She got that glimmer in her eye that had caused me to believe that she was my greatest temptation. "Would we be permitted to court, then?"

I smiled at the question surprised that of everything she could have asked this had been her first one. "Yes, if that was what we both want," I told her trying to hold in my smile and the image her question had created within me.

"Would you?" she challenged looking scared and timid.

I looked down bashfully telling her truthfully, "If you did."

"I see," she mused looking hopeful for the first time since our reacquaintance. Then her face fell and she asked "And are children still out of the question?"

"Yes," I answered. "Our kind cannot have children, although, you are welcome to mother Edward. He sure needs a mother's touch." I chuckled at how Edward might respond to this sentiment.

"I see," she said, but her voice sounded like she was far away.

I continued despite her reaction mindful of our limited time. "Either way you need to start getting your affairs in order. If you want me to have my lawyers attempt to get the house from your husband, I need to know. There can be no loose ends."

"And I have to die?" she verified.

"Yes, either by your life here on earth ending or to become like Edward and I. Otherwise my kind will track us down and kill us all."

"I see," she said with resignation the despondency she had prior returning.

Looking at her cautiously, the dread I had felt, as if I had lost her, again began to spread over me. The pain that had been present in my chest deepened.

"I know it is a lot to think about," I assured her. "I am going to take you back to your room now. You will have until your discharged to decide. Certainly I do not have to tell you not to say anything to anyone," I warned her.

"No, you made it clear. To know is to die," she stated clipped, but there was no force to it as if the words had defeated her.

"All right," I stated confused about her tone, but not willing to asking her about it. Then just in case she was offended by my warning I modulated my voice tenderly saying, "Just checking." After a moment of silence, I added, "I also want to inform you that I have the next two days off."

She nodded letting me now that she had heard me.

When we got back to her bed she did not take my elbow, but instead insisted on managing things herself. The only reasonable conclusion was that she was afraid of me. I understood. It made perfect sense. Nevertheless, it was upsetting, as Miss Platt had never been afraid of me before and the pain in my chest throbbed.

"Sleep well, Miss Platt," I offered to her warmly keeping my hurt out of my tone as I left the room.

"Good evening, Dr. Cullen," she muttered softly without a hint of emotion.

It was impossible to get back to her; the shift was simply too busy. Nevertheless, before leaving the hospital I found her in the same position she had been prior to her visit with Edward. I did not know what words might comfort her and she did not seem to know I was there, so I left without any word passing between us.

Going to my bench, I prayed for wisdom and guidance, for Him to be with Miss Platt, and for all my patients past and current. I skipped the library choosing to go home.

"What did she say?" Edward greeted me anxious as soon as he got home from school.

"Whom?" I teased him.

"Come on now Carlisle, just tell me what happened," he insisted impatiently.

I smiled widely. "Well, then shall I put you out of your misery?"

He grinned wider.

Pausing dramatically, working at focusing on what was around me I watched Edward grow more impatient by the second. When it seemed as if he could not bear it anymore I told him, "I gave her the option to know what I am, but warned her that her knowing meant her death. She agreed to be told. I gave her the option to be changed."

His eyes glimmered and his lips pursed as if he had expected this. "What questions did she ask? What did she want to _know_?" he asked so quickly that I almost did not catch his words once he opened his mouth.

 _She asked if I would court her if she were changed. And she asked if we could have children._ Then my mind recounted the conversation between her and I. _  
_

"Interesting." He seemed forlorn suddenly. "Did she ask anything else?" he asked subdued.

"No, actually," I told him puzzled by his response.

"Hmm," was his only reply.

I looked at him trying to understand what caused his sudden mood change. _Want to talk about it?_

"Yes, but it would not be right to betray her confidences." By the end of the sentence he seemed dejected.

 _Your gift is such a heavy burden sometimes. I wish I could make the load lighter for you._

"Thank you for your offer, just the same," Edward told me before going into the sitting room to read.

Standing there I tried to consider what to do next. Certainly there were medical journals waiting to be read. But my equilibrium had been disturbed. The impatience I had felt when I had posted Mr. Platt my request to be her benefactor returned only in a more intense form. Eventually I forced myself to sit and read, even if my mind seemed unable to take in the information.

"Just go see her, Carlisle," Edward told me in an exasperated tone later that evening.

 _There is no medical reason. She is weak, but stable. There is little chance that she would not last these next two days. She in is God's hands.  
_

"I know," he grumbled. "You have been repeating those statements to yourself over and over again. Just go, you will feel better."

Sighing I tried to explain _Yes, you are correct, Edward, I would feel better, but that does not make it the right thing to do. Consuming human blood would also make me feel better, but I do not choose that either. If I follow my impulses without considering the moral implications, then I am no better than the sewer rat that attacked me. I do not wish to become that wraith, and it is in these small choices where I make my stand. I choose to act not because I can, not because I could, but because it is the moral choice. If I suffer a little, so be it. I will come to no harm, and if I have learned nothing else in my ten years of being Miss Platt's friend, is that I never know what lesson God might have in store for me from these inconveniences._

"Inconveniences? Inconveniences?" he muttered his tone increasing in exasperation. "Well, it might be an inconvenience to you, but it is driving me crazy," he fumed.

 _Why?_ I asked curiously.

"Because," he uttered, "I want to know," he whined. "Not to mention the same thoughts going round and round in your head."

"We will learn of Miss Platt's choice in God's timing," I told him firmly. _I am sorry that_ _ _my thoughts'_ repetitive nature is making it hard on you._

"It is really not that, although they are not helping," he admitted timidly.

 _Then what is it?_ I pushed him.

"I want her to say yes," he murmured quietly, "and I am afraid of what that will mean for me if she does."

Cocking my head to the side, I tired to puzzle out what he meant.

He alternated between being still and shuffling his feet back and forth.

After some minutes I told him, _No one could replace you, Edward. My relationship with Miss Platt has no reflection on you and vice versa,_ hoping I had guessed correctly.

"I want you to be happy, Carlisle, no matter what," he said fervently. It was a sweet sentiment and I appreciated it reminding me of how he had sacrificed himself to help his mother. He had a heart of gold.

About an hour later he growled, "I cannot take it any longer. I am going on a run before school."

When he got home he barely had time to change before he headed out the door, and then he ended up spending most of that evening away from me as well. By the time my days off had ended and I needed to return to work he looked almost relieved.

The shift was hectic, which was unusual for a Wednesday night, leaving me with no time to greet Miss Platt. When I visited her at the end of my shift she was sill staring at the wall.

"Have a good day, Mrs. Schultz," were the only words that passed between us as I left her to her thoughts.

She did not reply.

At my bench I prayed until it was almost my shift again. Then, using the spare clothes packed in the car went back to work.

Even though I visited Miss Platt before the start of my shift, she did not respond to me. At the end of the shift I told her, "I need to go home and check on Edward. I will be back tonight."

She made the slightest of nods. As it was the first reaction I had seen from her since telling her my secret, it gave me hope that perhaps not all was lost.

I did not go to my bench or the library, but did go to the launders. On the way home I used one of the hospital-scent free shirt and pants in order to change for Edward's sake.

"So?" Edward greeted me.

Smiling at his impatience I considered if I might need to teach him how to edge into a conversation.

"I can do that," Edward stated indignantly. "There is simply no point with you. I do not wish to pretend. I do that enough at school," he grumbled.

 _I am sorry, Edward. I had not considered how much of a challenge that might bring._

"Yeah, well, my mother did raise me to be a gentleman. I know how to do it," he told me irritated while shuffling his feet.

 _It is fine. I understand._

His body relaxed. "Thanks."

"Sure Edward."

He gave me a look like spill it.

 _Were you impatiently waiting for me to get back?_ I asked teasing him.

He shuffled his feet again. "Maybe." Then he grinned cheekily.

 _Mostly she was non-responsive._

His face dropped most likely from what he picked up from my mind. Then suddenly his face changed in what seemed to contain hope. "Would you mind telling me a Miss Platt story?" he asked kindly.

Looking at him curiously, I nodded and then told him the one where I helped her to the kitchen and the conversation with her mother and then my walk. It was one I had not shared before.

It had helped us both. No matter what the future might hold, I would always have my Miss Platt stories and due to the last weeks I had more.

"Sometimes that is all we get," was Edward's response to my musings.

 _Tell me a story._

He took his hand to his chin and made himself into the thinking man.

I smiled at his antics.

Then he described to me in great detail one of the few memories of his mother that he had. It was not a long story and it surrounded him not wanting to keep up his piano lessons, but it was tenderly sweet. It spoke to how his mother loved him, spoiled him, and yet forced him into responsibility.

 _You are a talented storyteller, Edward. We should do that again. I enjoyed it._

He smiled bashfully. "You have better stories, old man."

 _More does not mean better._

He smiled widely. "Touché." Then he chuckled.

We both sat in our thoughts, neither one wanting to face what the day held.

 _I work through the week due to all the shifts I picked up._

He nodded. "Will she be discharged before then?"

"Doubtful. More likely it will be sometime next week. It depends on how well her scar is healing," I told him.

"Go see if she has made a decision yet. My patience is wearing thin," he nearly demanded.

 _She will speak when she is ready. It is a lot for the human brain to wrap itself around._

He said nothing and if he noted my hesitancy to press the matter in my thoughts, he did not say.

It took me longer than usual to leave and then to drive to work. I was nervous. Making it her choice was the right thing to do, but it was causing me havoc. This was far worse than waiting for Mr. Platt's letter.

Arriving to the hospital, I went to my office, changed into my coat, and went to Miss Platt's room. When I came in she was sitting up, although she looked worse and I could already smell the sluggishness in her body, its inability to keep her alive. It was slowing down. It would only be a matter of time. The way that she sat in some ways reminded me of her sixteen-year-old self. How had we come here? But no matter what else, I was glad to see her more than comatose.

"Do we have time for you to take me on a stroll?" she asked casually while looking at her hands.

"Yes, about twenty minutes," I replied stoically.

It seemed that we were both unconcerned about the gossip surrounding my unique attention to her. Mostly it was harmless, fellow patients telling her that she might snag a doctor, although I suspected the comments hurt her due to Jeb. A few of the nurses were jealous of the attention I had given Miss Platt, but so far none had started a vicious rumour probably because they knew of her son's death and that she was not recovering well. The most gracious of nurses scolded the others.

She moved to get out of bed. I went to find her a wheelchair. Luckily there was one in the nurse's station. She was insistent to act without my assistance. Once she was settled in the chair, I asked, "Where do I have the pleasure to take you, Miss Platt?"

"Somewhere we can talk," was her subdued reply.

Nodding in understanding, I took her back to the same room where I had spilled my secret.

Once I was in a chair sat across from her, she evaluated me carefully. "You meant what you said," she confirmed all business-like. It was a side of Miss Platt that I had never seen before.

"Every word," I replied earnestly.

"Would my body be like yours?" she questioned.

"Similar in quality, yes; we are hard and cold in comparison to humans. We do not produce tears and we do not sleep."

She nodded, but continued her gaze. "You don't age?"

My eyes widened. She had noticed. "No, Miss Platt. Our looks are frozen at the age we were changed."

The edges of her mouth lifted slightly. "Would you be willing to share?"

I evaluated her. "I believe I was 23 or 24 when I was turned in 1663."

Her eyes became huge and I watched as she did the calculations in her head.

"What do you consume to be able to live so long?" she asked her eyes calculating.

I looked down at her hands not wanting to scare her. "Blood, Miss Platt."

"Blood?" she repeated incredulously and shook her head.

"Yes, I drink animal blood and I have taught Edward to do the same, but most of my kind do not. Most drink human blood. If you chose this life, it would be your choice, as it was Edward's."

Any colour that was in her face had drained. After many very long minutes she asked in a squeaky voice, "Like Stoker's Dracula?"

"Not exactly, but close enough. You would still be you. The transformation does not take away your personality. It merely changes your body. Saying that, it is not an easy life."

She nodded gravely.

We spent many minutes in silence as her heart raced and her face gained a green complexion. I did not think she could take anything more. "Our time is coming to a close, unfortunately, Miss Platt. Any other questions that you have for me?"

"Not for now," she squeaked seemingly retreating into herself once more.

By the time we arrived at the elevator she looked very much as she had these past days.

"May I impose upon you to ask a favour, Dr. Cullen?" she asked sadly the scent of tears appearing.

"Anything," I answered since we were alone.

"Could you assist me with the plans to bury my son? I would like to have the funeral the day after I am released."

"Yes, most certainly," I told her without hesitation. "Edward or I would have to accompany you. Nevertheless, we will give you as much privacy as we can. I hope you understand."

"Yes, I knew the terms before I agreed to them," she replied without strength, then after a short pause added, "You were very clear."

The elevator stopped on her floor.

"All right," I stated relieved that she understood the limitations upon her given her knowing my secret. "Would you be willing to put your wishes into writing?" I asked as we came near to her room.

"Yes, I can do that," she told me. "I will have it on my night table before I go to sleep tonight."

I nodded even though I was not sure that she could see me. "Thank you for asking, Mrs. Schultz. It means a lot to me that you would trust me with this matter."

She nodded slightly, but said nothing more.

We came to the room and she slowly made her way into her bed.

"Thank you for your honesty," she told me as she lay down.

"I have always endeavoured, to the best of my ability, to be honest with you, Mrs. Schultz," I told her at the foot of her bed my hands on the wheelchair.

"Yes, I can see that. I did not always, but I do now. Thank you for doing so," she stated earnestly.

"You are quite welcome. Good evening," I told her stealing one more glance her way before heading out.

"Good evening, Dr. Cullen."

Walking away I returned the chair and went straight into my rounds. I had failed to do my pre-shift preparation having run out of time. As it was the Friday night shift it was bound to be busy. It was past two in the morning when I made it back to Miss Platt's room. Just as promised she had written detailed instructions regarding her wishes for her son. I was still in the hospital two hours after my shift had meant to end when I finished handing my cases off and went upstairs to see Miss Platt. Her chart only reiterated what was clear by her scent–her condition was worsening. There was nothing more the hospital could do. Mostly likely they would discharging her early next week. By then the wound my hand had given her would be healed enough for her to be released.

She was sitting up staring at the wall her breakfast untouched when I entered.

"Good morning, Mrs. Schultz."

She merely nodded.

"Would you not take a bite for me?" I asked gently.

She turned her head towards me, narrowed her eyes at me, and then looked defeated. She slowly picked up her fork and stabbed the eggs. She lifted them to her lips and chewed, but there was a disattachment from this activity in how she moved that was disconcerting. Nevertheless, I found myself fascinated by her lips. She eventually finished her bite and I made sure to lift my gaze to her eyes.

"Thank you."

She nodded as if she was already defeated. To see her like this was painful. After long minutes and a few shallow breaths she finally spoke, "Good morning, Dr. Cullen. Everything in order?" Her tone was detached congruent with how she had just behaved.

"Everything should be. Once everything opens on Monday I can give you a more definitive answer," I let her know hiding the sadness that her state induced within me.

"Certainly Dr. Cullen," she said her voice heavy. "Is your shift over?" she asked in a way that implied she was merely being polite.

"Yes," I told her.

She smiled at me slightly.

I was not sure what had caused this reaction in her, but it was slightly better than her staring at a wall. "I just wanted to check in with you before I left for the day," I let her know.

She nodded and it appeared as if she were lost in thought.

I waited.

"Perchance would we have the opportunity to speak this evening?" she asked, but there was no eye contact, no life in her tone.

The pain in my chest increased a little more.

"Yes," I answered. "My last shift before my days off is tonight. It would most likely be our last chance before you are discharged."

"Yes, I suspected so," she replied lifelessly her voice barely carrying to me.

I smiled cautiously at her.

"In that case, have a good day," I said more for appearance sake than anything, as I doubted she had heard me at all.

"You do the same, Dr. Cullen," she said perfunctory. As I left the room, it sounded like she had moved to lie back down.

I wanted to go to my bench and pray, but assumed Edward would be impatiently waiting for my return again, so went home instead.

I was struggling to keep what had transpired at the hospital out of my mind, so I read to myself Stoker's Dracula and evaluated the similarities and differences to Edward and myself.

"Really, Carlisle, Dracula?" Edward admonished me when I walked in the door.

"Miss Platt asked if we were anything like that, so I thought I would do a comparison," I told him smiling, the mirth evident in my voice.

He took in a sharp breath and then released it. "She asked?"

"She did," I admitted my tone unable to hide both my pleasure and my discomfort.

"She is a sharp one, your Miss Platt."

I eyed him curiously.

"She had catalogued many of our qualities," he admitted shyly. "Not enough to guess right, but enough to know you were different and when she met me she decided that it was not a medical condition but something other."

"Ah." I thought over our letter debates. "Honestly, that does not surprise me. She has always had a fine mind."

"Debating with her through your letters? I would have never imagined you stooping to such levels, Dr. Carlisle Cullen." His tone was teasing and playful.

"Neither would have I, but as I informed her, it would not have done well to attend classes with her at her women's college."

He looked at me for one moment and then laughed heartily. When he calmed he would look at me again and start laughing once more.

 _I swear you and Miss Platt get such enjoyment at my expense,_ I teased.

"You in a dress Carlisle, trying to be a lady; I cannot imagine …" and then he was laughing even harder.

I tried to visualize it, but utterly failed.

"Oh, Carlisle, you have no imagination," he finally stated when he had calmed down again.

 _No, I expect that I do not. Perhaps I was a man of science even in my youth._

"Perhaps old man," he agreed easily.

I smiled.

"I suppose we have things to discuss," he said seriously schooling his features.

"We do. Miss Platt asked for assistance in the burial of her son. She will most likely be discharged early next week. I would guess Tuesday. I cannot be the one to pick her up. Doing so would raise too many questions, especially if she were to disappear." I looked at him poignantly. "She wants to do the burial the day she leaves the hospital. I told her at least one of us would have to accompany her. Since I broke the law and told her, I feel obligated towards her no matter what she chooses, but I would appreciate your help."

He evaluated my request. "Yes. I could pick her up, but I cannot come inside. She would have to come to meet me. I could drive her from there and you could meet us where she wants to go."

 _Keep the windows down. The small space will intensify her scent._

He nodded. "I will control myself, Carlisle. I know how much she means to you," he muttered I think for his own sake more than mine.

 _I trust her with you. I simply want to make it as easy as possible on you._

He nodded his body relaxing. "How long would she have if she wants to remain human?"

"A week at most would be my best guess. Her condition is already worsening." I tried not to think of her chart as I spoke, and instead attempted to mentally focus on Dracula, but was uncertain how successful I was.

"Would you bring her here?" he asked.

 _There would be blood,_ I let him know. _  
_

He nodded gravely.

 _I was thinking one of the B &Bs nearby. I will request some time off. It should not be a problem._

"How about those cabins near the park?" he asked.

I nodded thinking that through. _That would mean purchasing and even perhaps preparing human food._

Edward looked disgusted. "Up to you, then. I am not touching the human food."

I smiled sadly. _Perhaps we could give her the option?_

"Perhaps," he agreed but he sounded uncertain. "And if she agreed to the change?"

 _I will take her to the same place we just left. It is the best place I have for a newborn._

"You would take another two years or more off?"

Considering his question I answered, _However long it takes. In many ways your mind reading helped in the beginning and I could always constrain you. I am not sure about Miss Platt._

"We would have to consider her a newborn first and a lady second until she would be manageable."

 _Yes, I suppose you are right. Easier said than done, though,_ I told him as I failed to imagine how to do such a thing.

"Certainly." He pondered. "Perhaps my gift would help us stop her before she acted."

 _Or her thoughts could make it more difficult on your own control._

He looked despondent. "I had not considered that."

"Edward." He looked at me. _We have no idea what we are doing, but I did not with you either and we muddled through._

He smiled tentatively. "Yes, I suppose we did."

 _We will get through this as well._

His smile turned more genuine. "Yes. Yes, I suppose we will."

"Good. Let us go through the logistics, then."

We spent the rest of the day, before I needed to return, going through every eventuality. We still had more ground to cover, but I needed to leave.

I changed into my coat upon my arrival and headed to Miss Platt's room.

She was sitting up again.

"Are you ready for our stroll, Mrs. Schultz?"

"Naturally, Dr. Cullen," she retorted curtly. It was the first time she had ever spoken to me in such a way.

I had brought a wheelchair this time and we were on our way as soon as she sat down. I took her back to the same small office.

"Why here?" she asked as soon as we entered.

"It is the most private space I know in the hospital. Often the walls have ears," I explained.

"Indeed," she replied tersely.

We sat watching each other neither of us wanting to start. Eventually I knew our time was drawing near.

"Miss Platt, I apologise, but my shift will start soon and I need an answer so Edward and I can make preparations on your behalf, whatever your choice is."

Her whole demeanour changed. She slouched more almost folding into herself and the stern neutral face she had turned into sorrow. "I am scared, Dr. Cullen," she admitted with tears threatening to fall.

"That is to be expected. I was not given a choice and Edward's mother made the choice on his behalf."

She raised an eyebrow.

"A story for another time. It is scary to choose. Neither choice is easy."

"If your life did not suit me, is there a way out?" she asked hesitantly.

"No, Miss Platt," I told her saddened by her question, going on to explain, "We are all but eternal creatures."

Her breath hitched. "I see." She attempted to compose herself, but she was clearly struggling to do so.

"Either choice is for forever," I reiterated.

"Yes, I assumed as much, but to hear you confirm it is still startling. I have to admit, what you have told me has been a challenge to wrap my mind around. In the end I stopped trying. You have given me two choices. I die a natural death or I live as you do."

I nodded for her to go on.

"The rest I have had to put out of my mind."

I nodded again conveying my understanding.

"You are good, Dr. Cullen, as is Edward. Although I miss my son terribly and before your offer I had no desire to continue with my own life, I do not want to lose out on the chance of having more conversations with you. I know it is not terribly philosophical, but when I look at the choices you gave me, this is what it boils down to for me." Contrary to her words she looked as if she had lost some great battle.

Her conclusions were why I had offered her the choice in the first place. Although I had nowhere to place her expressions, I nodded in comprehension.

"So, despite what you are, the difficulties you have warned me about, and the pain you have promised me, I counted the cost and to keep what we have right now, even if it is nothing more, I determined that it is worth it."

"Are you sure, Miss Platt?" I questioned.

"Yes," she sighed as if her choice had disappointed her.

I sighed. "What about your human life, your house with your husband, your belongings, what would you like to do?"

"I want all my things from Mrs. Potter's dwelling," she informed me and for the first time I saw in her a glimmer of hope.

Nodding I had expected as much.

She continued, "I do not care about the house in Duluth. It only has bad memories. Anyway, I remember you mentioning something about having more money than you can spend. We could always get a new house."

"Yes, Miss Platt, I do have enough money to buy you a new house," I confirmed enjoying seeing her be her old self a little.

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "Well, then that is settled." Then her face was grave. "There are some personal affects that are in the house in Duluth, that if possible I would like to have."

"Let me discuss that with Edward. I might have an idea about that," I let her know.

"All right," she agreed.

She looked at me with equal measures of fear and acceptance.

I did not know what to say to offer comfort. Unfortunately, the priority was to speak of next steps and I needed to explain what Edward and I had agreed.

"Edward will pick you up on Tuesday, as you chart suggests that to be your discharge date. He will need you to meet him outside the hospital. He will drive you to the gravesite. Shortly after our arrival there would be a minister who will do the service you requested. For appearance sake and to not connect your disappearance with Edward and I we would request that you return to Duluth for a night or two and stay in a motel. Hopefully it will appear that you left Ashland for reasons unconnected to us. Afterwards we will go to a place I own that is in the middle of a forest. I will change you there."

"You will?" she asked seemingly taken back by my words.

"Yes, I must bite you for what flows through our veins to enter your system."

"I see. And it will hurt a lot?" she questioned her boy quivering.

"Extremely so."

She nodded. "Can you explain the details later? I think I have had enough." Then the mask she had worn before returned.

"Not a bother, Miss Platt. You are correct, of course, that there is much more for us to speak about. As we do so, know that you are welcome to change your mind. Thus, I implore you to remember that you are not beholden to your yes today."

"I will remember," she stated softly looking at her hands.

"Is there else we need to discuss before we leave these confines?"

She took her hands, wrapped them around one of mine, and gazed into my eyes. "Only thank you for being so good to me through the years."

"Of course, Miss Platt. It has been my pleasure," I told her with a gentle smile then stood and we made our way back to her room.

"Sleep well," I offered as I left her room.

"Have a good shift, Dr. Cullen," she replied muted and groggily.

It was busy enough. Quite a number of hours passed after my shift was meant to end when I actually left the hospital. Since it was Sunday, I went to a morning church service. Afterwards I went to my bench to pray and after my prayers walked the city some before returning to the hospital. When not caring for patients I spent my time updating each patient's file meticulously, since it would be my last shift. When I could manage it I ventured near to Miss Platt's ward but did not go near her hoping that doing so would stop any idea in the staff's minds that my leaving and her discharge were connected. I left the hospital only a few hours after my shift was meant to end. The last look at her chart confirmed my guess that her discharge would be Tuesday. I sat at my bench until I knew offices had been opened and then went to use a public phone. I called my accountant and lawyer explaining to them both that there had been a family emergency and I would be out of contact for a while again. I gave them the P.O. Box I had yet to close.

Then I went to a funeral home and arranged things to Miss Platt's specifics. Afterwards I went and paid the pastor to do the service. Edward and I had already agreed that following the burial he would take Miss Platt to Mrs. Potter's to retrieve her belongings. He would meet me on the outskirts of town and pick me up. We hoped that would be enough so that Miss Platt's disappearance could not be traced back to me.

When I got home I mentally ran through everything I had done thus far.

 _Edward, she also requested to have some of her belongings from the Duluth house. I was thinking, if you were willing, that she could mentally show you what she wanted and where it might be. Then you could go in when her husband was not home and collect those things._

"Where will she stay?"

 _Perchance Miss Platt could book herself into a motel nearby, as to make it seem that she might want to see her husband, like we had previously discussed as an option to remove any implications_.

"It would need to be a place near trees, so we could keep an eye on her in case."

 _Good thinking._

"I think we should still meet in east Ashland near the industrial area, then we can swing round. How do you feel about hiding in the back of your own vehicle?"

I tried to imagine it. _I do not know._

"You and your imagination." He chuckled.

 _Is everything in order?_

"The packing is still needed, but you said you would do that while I picked up Miss Platt."

"Yes," I confirmed, "that is not a problem. I have lots of practice." After running through my mental list, I told Edward, "We need to hunt."

"Certainly," he agreed, "and if there is still time after that I will help with the books."

"That would be greatly appreciated," I told him.

"Race you to the ridge," he yelled sprinting off.

I smiled knowing that this was probably the last time we would do that in this house. That was okay. There would be other houses.

Naturally he beat me and took longer to hunt as I found a buck easily. I sat on our meeting spot praying for my patients and then for Miss Platt and what the three of us had in store for us. As I expected, by the time we got back home Edward needed to leave to be at the hospital. I packed and tried not the think too much about the fact that I was packing to go towards Miss Platt rather than away. I could not have imagined this day would be possible when I first stood at those crossroads and decided on the second path.

I felt entirely and completely blessed, as well as more scared than I had ever been in my whole life. Somewhere within me a seedling of a hope had begun to grow without my awareness. It was a hope that Miss Platt might wish to be my wife. It was a selfish and inappropriate hope given the circumstances, but I could not help the image of her in an apron welcoming me home with a kiss after a long shift at the hospital. A wife along with Edward seemed like too much to even wish for and yet my heart could not help but dream.


	7. Facing Reality

**Alice's first shopping trip as referenced is courtesy of Jessica314's story Tale of Years: 1950 here in FF.**

 **Edward's behaviours and the family's actions described below come from Saudade by Haemophilus Leona.**

Beta: The incredible and amazing _kiwihipp_ whose honesty and questions significantly altered the beginning of this chapter improving it immensely _  
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(Updated 26 November)

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 **Chapter 7: Facing Reality  
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Suddenly, I was no longer travelling with Carlisle and Edward in their car with my meagre belongings in the trunk to some remote location listening to stories from each of them about their early years and the struggles of being a vampire. What had happened? Where was I? Confusion engulfed me.

Backing myself swiftly into a corner of the room my movement cracked plaster and it was instantaneously obvious that I was already a vampire. Had I gone through the transformation without Carlisle biting me and me endearing the pain that he had promised? As I searched for answers, strangely, I became aware that despite my disorientation, my physical body felt familiar rather than new. Carefully examining my surroundings I was in a house, my house my brain insisted, in Ithaca, in the bedroom that Carlisle and I shared. The sun was hidden behind the horizon.

Memories of all my years since Carlisle had bitten me in the morgue filled me, and I became overwhelmed once more. Placing my hands on my head, rocking back and forth, I yowled in grief. This Carlisle, the one whose scent filled this room hadn't sent me to college, hadn't corresponded with me via letters, hadn't stayed my friend, hadn't tried to save me and my baby, hadn't told me the truth of his nature, and hadn't given me a choice. The Carlisle whose scent lingered in this room was the one that I saw for the first time as a vampire after ten years of his absence. Continuing my rocking I wailed, the longing to return to the Carlisle of my imagination filling me so strongly.

As the shock and grief that the Carlisle of my imaginings was not real passed, I became incredibly angry and began growling my teeth bared and my body ready to pounce. My anger surprised me and quickly I realised that it was expressing how deeply I wished to return to my imaginings. Once it became clear that my reaction and stance were in response to something imaginary, my anger receded like a wave pulling back with it so much of what had previously dominated me. I was left feeling numb. One thing was clear; there was no danger. Quite the opposite, I was totally and completely alone.

Where was Carlisle? Edward? Rosalie? Emmett? Alice? Jasper? Had I been gone so long that my entire family had deserted me? Had they tried to arouse me and had not been able? Fear and grief threatened to pull me under once more, but this time I centred myself rooting my thoughts in my present environment. With one inhale and a quick evaluation I easily concluded that the scents in the room were relatively recent, a week old at most. Thus, their absence did not indicate that I had been gone so long that their lives had moved on. Added to that, their scents swelled within me a deep assurance that if an emergency had transpired, they would have found some way to take me with them. As my brain supplied reminders of when I used to immerse myself in my imagination in my first years as a vampire, it also impressed upon me that Carlisle or Edward had always been able to stir me before. Thus, my waking up alone must be as a result of something else.

Although my conclusions eased my tension, it was, nevertheless, bizarre that Carlisle was not nearby, and, even more so, to have none of the others near the house either. Perhaps Carlisle was at work and the children were out hunting my brain offered. Certainly, Alice would have seen me awaken. Which begged asking: where were they? Why hadn't they stayed? I didn't want to know what possible futures her gift might have offered her in order for her to choose to not be here for my return. Or perhaps, simply, the time of my awakening had been too challenging for her to pin down, since no decision to awaken had been made on my part. Nonetheless, it was disconcerting, and caused me some slight anxiety. I comforted myself by the reminder that even if she had no time reference prior, her gift would have notified her of the change in my circumstance. Certainly, someone would be alone shortly.

Stilling myself completely, I listened attentively to my surroundings hoping to hear the sound of running feet or an engine approaching, but there was nothing. The only sounds that my ears picked up belonged to nature. As I listened to the grumble of the trees as they swayed, the squeak of the branches as the wind pushed them around, the sound of the leaves brushing up upon one another, the movement of the ants under the earth making their homes, or the birds in their nests, my body calmed. These very sounds were a balm to my soul. Taking in a deep and long breath, I allowed Carlisle's, Alice's, and Jasper's scents to enter me and become a part of me. Like I had done, since being turned, I chose to dwell on what I had rather than what I lacked. Exhaling I let my nervousness, aggravation, and confusion go, as they were obstructive to my truest self and the person I choose to be. Despite the fact that the Carlisle of present had not followed his heart a little more, he was still my husband and mate whom loved me dearly.

Even though I had grounded myself some, it was a challenge to stay in the present. I desperately wanted to go back to the Carlisle of my imaginings. Even with my expansive brain, I was struggling to reconcile that the events I believed to have happened slowly over ten years, had in fact happened in my head. Not to mention that my imaginings had given me a type of intimate insight into Carlisle that I could not be certain was accurate. It was like I had lived those years through him rather than my own life. If those two things were not enough to wrap my mind around, then there was the fact that I admired the Carlisle of my imaginings more than the one here in Ithaca. Our imagined friendship through those years had seemed to positively impact him into becoming a man more willing to have faith and to risk his heart. Although my brain understood the differences between the man I had just imagined and the man I was married to, the Carlisle of my imagination had felt so real and was closer to what I would have hoped for between us. My reflections on these differences stirred within me emotions that I did not know what to do with: displeasure, dissatisfaction, discomfort, and distress.

Despite my capacity to better understand what had happened, the experience from my imaginings felt so strong, almost more real than the room surrounding me. My imaginings from my early years had been the same. A few times I had imagined Charles as a better husband. Each time I had come out of those had been disorientating, but not to the same degree as this one, although in those cases Edward had guided me out helping me to become once more grounded in reality. Never before had I imagined something so close to what could have been true, so distinguishing between reality and my wishful thinking had been easier.

As my emotions calmed to a less intense state and the numbness that had momentarily overtaken me dissolved, I was able to think more clearly. With greater clarity arose many questions. The most pressing was how long precisely had I sat on the window ledge motionless lost in my head? I couldn't tell. Reminding myself to be gentle I took my phone out of my shirt pocket discovering that it was two-fourteen in the morning two days later than I had last been in this room. The knowledge that only a little over two days had passed was a comfort of sorts. It seemed to confirm my supposition that Carlisle was at work. However, that did not answer why he had not aroused me from my imaginings like he had before or why he had not stayed with me. It wasn't like him to abandon me. Perhaps Alice had told him that it was best to leave me be. Certainly he would be better served at the hospital than sitting with me. I knew that, so assuredly Alice would know that, and Carlisle would trust Alice's judgement.

My mental reassurance that everything was bound to be fine was unsuccessful in completely calming me. I needed to touch my family, see them, and take their fresh scents into myself. Since that wasn't an option, rather than focusing on my apprehensions or the imagined world I wished to return to, I, once again, attempted to take Carlisle's advice from those early years to ground myself in reality. Removing myself from the corner and returning to the window ledge I had spent the last two days in I forced myself to review these pasts months, post leaving Forks.

There was our time at the Denali's that had been filled with the details of our decision to move to Ithaca. Rather than speaking to my husband about what had been on my heart and mind, I had immersed myself in my role, the family's needs, and busied myself with the process of settling in and redesigning this house. I forced my mind to review how I had done the bulk of the household tasks; how Jasper had enrolled in a few classes at Dartmouth and helped me when he was able; how Rosalie and Emmett had helped initially, but after a week had left to travel unable to handle the atmosphere; how Alice sat focused on her gift using it to track down Edward; and how Carlisle had immersed himself in his work. Then Alice had brought Edward to Ithaca in a frightful state.

After that, when Carlisle hadn't been at the hospital, he had been trying to reach Edward. While Carlisle was at work, I had sat next to Edward with my hand on his knee attempting to merely observe our surroundings and be with him. Once again events had given Carlisle and I little time together, not that us being alone would have facilitated the conversation we had both been avoiding. Painfully I forced myself to recall how, when almost suddenly, Edward had come out of his state adamant on finding Victoria. We each had offered to go with him, Carlisle, Alice, and Jasper especially, but he had refused insistent that he needed to do this alone. In turn each of us had agreed to allow him to do things his way, although Alice had warned him that she wouldn't stop using her gift to help him.

Once Edward had left it, had not taken long before the house had felt dead. Carlisle had fallen into the guilt and doubt that had riddled him the last time Edward had left. These events, the busyness they had created, and the emotional turmoil they had generated had festered widening the gap between Carlisle and I. At least that was what I had been telling myself prior to my imaginings. In recalling these events in this way I could not help but see the moments in which I could have spoken and had instead remained quiet, just as I had over the last ninety years. Carlisle was more than my husband or a coven leader; he was the head of our family. We all needed him, and, if last time was any indication, what he needed more than anything was me. I was his heart, gave him heart, because unlike my imaginings, he had not really found it himself. And on this subject I did not know how to give it to him.

I consoled myself with the awareness that Rosalie and Emmett were in the best spirits, happy in their travels, but I believed that was mostly because they were avoiding the issue. Jasper, on the other hand, continued to stay away from the home and spent many hours at the college. Alice had been going on short travels to find out more information about her past. I think it was her way of coping. She needed something other than Edward to concentrate her focus. Carlisle and I had been both too shell shocked and upset to say more to each other than our reassurances of our love and bond for the other, both of us refraining from saying words that might be unkind. We had all been lost and sad as the gaps between Carlisle and I had become even more apparent and had widened.

Our widening was in greater part due to the fact that despite Carlisle's and my conversation in Alaska, we had not really ever repaired the tears that had happened as a result of our differing votes to leave Forks. It seemed that the silence between us had been damaging our relationship in a greater degree than I had first thought. After all, I had yet to find the moment to tell him all of what I had wanted to say, because I was lost myself in trying to find the words I had not been able to find for ninety years. It was partially why I had been on the window ledge. I had been trying to find a way to the words needed. Instead, I had been transported into an alternative version of how things could have gone. It was restorative as it was heartbreaking to sit on the ledge looking out the window as I tried to convince my heart that these memories with the heartache they brought were my reality, not my imaginings. My heart was resistant. It did not want to accept the truth that Carlisle had chosen the first path.

As my body and mind reconciled, the nature around me soothed me, and my world became more ordered, I still was unable to completely understand why I had come out of my imaginings alone. My focused recollections allowed me the knowledge that Rosalie, Emmett, and Edward were not living in this house, but that still left Carlisle, Alice, and Jasper. Certainly, of all my children Alice and Jasper were the most capable of handling themselves. They were bound to be safe and simply spending time together. And Carlisle was more than capable of taking care of himself. So, although I was consoled in terms of their well-being, I still had no good answer to why they were not here. Certainly enough time had passed since my awakening for them to appear.

One thing was certain: Carlisle would be home later. No matter the hour, eventually Carlisle always returned to me. Undoubtedly, whether my imaginings were real or not, they had changed me. I could not see Carlisle, our marriage, or myself the same. Consequently, my only restorative path was to try, once again, to see if I could communicate things in such a way that allowed Carlisle to see the situation from my vantage point. I continued to stare out the window while I allowed my mind to ponder how to do such a thing and prepared myself for my family's eventual return.

"Up here," I greeted Carlisle when I heard him climb out of his car just before the sun was about the break over the horizon.

He came up immediately and far quicker than he usually travelled looking relieved and a little ashamed.

"What is it?" I asked as soon as my eyes greeted him.

He opened his arms inviting me in. Accepting his embrace, he held me as if his life depended on it. "I thought I had lost you too, Esme." His voice was weak and distant. He sounded scared and broken. "Neither Jasper, Alice, nor I could arouse you from your state. Jasper was frustrated that his gift had no influence on you, and I was petrified when the things that had worked before did no good. Alice said you would come out sometime today, but I hardly had the strength to believe it; the fear was too strong."

Taking in his scent deeply reminded me of all the wonderful things about the man holding me. Yes, he wasn't the Carlisle of my imaginings, but he was still ultimately Carlisle, a compassionate, caring, loving, generous man whom I loved.

"Oh, Carlisle," I murmured into his chest. "I told you I would never leave you."

He took in breath after breath of me as if needing constant confirmation that I was present with him.

"You haven't done that since Edward had left us and you were still young," he finally muttered. "I didn't know what to think." He sounded like he was confessing a betrayal.

Withdrawing slightly I looked up at him and smiled. "That might be the medicine that is needed at the moment," I stated sweetly.

He looked down into my eyes clouded with confusion.

Making sure I was filled with love, tenderness, and compassion, I instructed him softly, "I want you to go to the hospital today and ask for a sabbatical. You may not take no for an answer. By the time you get back I will have us packed for our place in Newfoundland." My tone continued to be soft, but it was firm. I had less than a handful of times in our eighty-three years together spoken to him such. From his lost look I knew that my request was what he needed. On top of that, my request was what _I_ needed.

He looked at me with wide eyes and speculation. "How long am I asking for?" There was curiosity but also relief in his tone and the slightest hint of worry.

"Indeterminable, but at least a month," I stated gently.

He opened his mouth, but then shut it again. His features shifted to acceptance. "Christmas will be a challenge for them to find coverage."

"Perhaps," I agreed, "but we have tried you at the hospital and me sitting in a perch. It's not working."

"If this is what you believe is needed, then who am I to argue?" he agreed after only a second's pause. "You have always been wiser on these matters. Let me get changed and I'll head back out to the hospital. If required, I will simply resign."

"If there are no other options," I concurred. "Our family comes first."

"Of course, my love. You are and will always be my priority," he stated emphatically standing up straighter and kissed my forehead.

His words were a balm to my heart and soul. He might not be the Carlisle of my imaginings, but he loved me completely. Leaning out of his embrace some I stared into his eyes and whole-heartedly said, "Thank you."

"I love you," was his reply.

"And I love you," was mine.

Then he quickly kissed me, changed, and left again.

I called Rosalie to tell her of my decision.

"Really, Esme? How can you do this? We don't know where Edward is. He could come back any day," she chastised me.

"Rose," I spoke softly and gently, "I know you're scared. There's nothing wrong with being afraid. It is scary. I was scared when Edward ran away during his rebellious years. I had the exact same thoughts that you're having now. He'll come back."

"You don't know that," she spluttered shakily.

"As well as I know him, Rose, I can. It's going to be all right," I assured her. "No matter what, we will be a family. Carlisle and I love you more than words can express. We are here for you. I need you to understand that we are a couple, too, as much as you and Emmett. We need this, as a couple."

"Yeah, I understand." She inhaled deeply. "I do. It just feels like everything is falling apart."

"Maybe that is what this family needs to become stronger, Rose."

She was silent for a long time. "You're sure?"

"Yes, darling, I am sure," I stated confidently. "You are still coming back for Christmas?" I checked.

"You going to be there?" she snarled.

"Of course, Rose," I assured her softly. "Have I ever lied to you?"

"No, Mom, never," she stated obviously impacted by my chastisement.

"All right then," I said softening my tone. "I'll be there. You just make sure to show up, darling."

I could hear the smile in her voice. "I wouldn't miss it for anything." She paused shortly. "Is Edward going to be there?"

"I couldn't say." Certainly she heard the sadness and uncertainty in my voice.

"I can't take any more deserters," she admitted heavily.

"He didn't desert us, Rose," I corrected. "He's dealing with his pain the best way he knows how."

"Well, he should just get over the human already and let things go back to the way they were," she stated irritatingly.

"I know you desperately wish for things to go back to before, but sometimes once things happen we can only move forward."

"Yeah, well, he needs to get over it," she grumbled.

"I hope he comes home soon, too," I told her.

"Fine, Mom," she relented begrudgingly. "I don't like any of it," she added emphatically and then softened, "Nevertheless, I'll see you Christmas Eve."

"Can't wait to see you Rose, and you too Emmett. Be safe you two."

"Always." Then she was gone.

As soon as it ended, I called Alice.

"It's a great idea, Esme," she greeted me when she picked up.

I smiled. Like Edward, her way of communicating midstream sometimes caught me off guard and sometimes, like today, I was incredibly grateful for it.

"Thank you for the assurance, Alice."

"Of course," she stated as if my appreciation was irritating her. After a short pause she added, "You're doing the right thing, Esme."

I appreciated her words and opinion, but this really didn't concern her. This was between Carlisle and I. Like all families our children would be impacted by us, nevertheless the problems between us were not her responsibility.

"Alice," I said with a bit of a warning, "I need you to not watch for a while as much as you can manage."

"I know," was her reply with sadness coating these two words. "Sometimes I get impatient, Esme, you know this."

I smiled. "Alice, darling, do you remember the first shopping trip right after you showed up at our door? You were impatient then too. What did I tell you?"

"That knowing the result ruins what I could discover along the way," she repeated robotically with heavy sarcasm.

I was smiling at the memories of that day. "I need you to remember that. We, as a family, are searching for something new. We _all_ need to learn from our discoveries along the way. That means you as well."

She sighed deeply. "Do you think that might be why my vision isn't working right?" She sounded so sad and lost.

"Tell me what's going on," I implored her.

She sighed again clearly hesitant. When she spoke she sounded defensive, "Well, I know I promised not to actively look for Bella, but sometimes things just pop up anyway."

"You can't help that, Alice, even _he_ knows that," I assured her.

"Well, yes, see, one _video_ of her that came in of its own accord became fuzzy at parts like there was static interference. I searched forward because I was afraid something had happened and things cleared up once more, but it was like three hours later. These fuzzy moments are getting worse, even though I _really_ am trying not to look on purpose."

"My darling, Alice, I was lost in my own imagination for over two days. We are all struggling. It's not surprising that your struggles might affect your vision. Perhaps your discoveries along the way will help with these issues. Please, for my sake, try to let everything but Jasper go for a few days."

"Okay," she relented. "You're not changing your mind? I don't have to check?" she asked sounding frightened, which was strange for Alice, since usually she was so certain about things. Perhaps this was a good thing, what she needed to improve for the better.

"I promise this isn't something I'm changing my mind about," I stated with conviction.

"All right, Mom, I will." Her teasing was sweet. "Thank you, Esme."

"I would do far more for you, my dear Alice. I love you."

"Love you too."

Then I packed, changed the voicemail on the house phone, made sure Carlisle's and my cell phones were being forwarded to the central number that would alert everyone except Edward if there was a call or message, and grabbed the emergency satellite phone. Jasper and Alice were going to still use the house, so I only prepared Carlisle and my room as well as our offices for a long departure. I was just finishing up when I heard Carlisle's car.

I came down and greeted him as he arrived.

"Yours or mine?" was the first question out of my mouth.

"I picked up gas in case you wanted to take mine." He smiled bashfully.

"Sounds good. Bags are on the steps. Everything is ready. Just make sure to lock the house on the way out."

He smiled, went to grab everything, and I went and sat on the passenger's seat.

Barely a hundred miles had passed when my mind returned to the struggles I had set aside when I had heard Carlisle's car. It was not just that the Carlisle sitting next to me had chosen to go left at those crossroads, but also that he had never expressed to me any doubt that leaving me behind at sixteen was the best decision he could have made at the time. Many decades ago when I had asked him if he ever doubted this decision, he had claimed that although he had thought of me fondly at the time, he had never doubted that he had made the right choice. He believed that God's divine providence had brought me back into his life. And I hadn't known how to articulate my experience against such strongly held beliefs that were so deeply embedded in his understanding of God.

I had taken no offense to his response; it simply reflected who he was. At every junction of his life he had chosen the rational option. It was not Carlisle that had changed. It was my heart. My treacherous heart, even with my husband sat next to me, liked the Carlisle of my imaginings better–the version where he was willing to listen to _his_ heart some and risk a little in order to remain in my life. That was the Carlisle I had wanted to return from the hospital. It was ironic to think that my heart was choosing Carlisle over Carlisle, and I started chuckling at myself.

Carlisle looked over at me. "Care to share?"

"Absolutely and completely," I answered earnestly, "but travelling in a metal box surrounded by mechanical and unnatural smells is not the place to do so. I was simply thinking something ironic."

"Ah," he uttered quietly before returning to look out the window his hands firmly on the steering wheel.

After a few moments had passed and it was obvious that Carlisle was going to say no more, I returned to my thoughts. As much as I might desire to do so, asking the Carlisle sitting next to me to be the man of my imaginings was like asking him to not be himself. Carlisle had chosen to change Edward, albeit with some prodding by Edward's mother, because Edward suited all the rational elements important to Carlisle. Edward had been dying and Carlisle had judged him as a heart-felt, tenderhearted, self-sacrificing, intelligent young man. He had wanted a male because he was too much of a gentleman to manhandle a lady as he reasoned might be necessary from time to time with a newborn. Additionally, Edward had contained the qualities Carlisle had searched for that he had rationally decided would give the best chance of his creation sticking to his animal diet. That was not to say he hadn't allowed some room for affection to coming into the equation, rather, it would be to say that his ultimate decision was based on logic.

The same was true of his choice to change Rosalie. He had told me later that he had previously had the opportunity to observe Rosalie before he had found her in the street. He had seen many similar qualities between Edward and Rosalie and figured that with my assistance it would be manageable. He had weighed his choice and had decided to save, in the manner he could, someone that he saw to be good and contained many of Edward's positive qualities.

Emmett might be considered the exception to Carlisle's logic, but I believe that even with Emmett he made the rational choice–change a dying man or face Rosalie's wrath and perhaps the chance that she would stray from his diet. It was Carlisle's compassion put into rational use at its best.

I was the exception. He had no reasonable or rational explanations of why he bit me. He mused once that it was if he acted first and thought after.

Through the years Edward had claimed that I had changed Carlisle, and perhaps I had, but our pairing had not increased the part of him that would allow him to listen to his heart better like he had in my imagining. Carlisle had claimed, since our union, that I brought him balance. I had never had a reason to doubt his statement, but since Bella had entered our lives and I had watched choices being made, I wasn't sure if it had served either of us for me to balance him out. I had liked to hope through the years that I brought enough heart into the marriage for the both of us. Perhaps instead I had hindered him from finding that balance within himself. Not that wasn't sure about Carlisle or our marriage, but suddenly who I had been as Carlisle's wife had been thrown into question. I had worked at pondering these things when Edward wasn't around, when we were still in Forks, which had ended up being often as he was otherwise engrossed in Bella.

We had already travelled three hours and crossed into Canada when Carlisle finally spoke. "Did it help?"

"What exactly, Carlisle?"

"You being lost to me for two days. Did it help?"

I pondered his question curious that he described my imaginings as me being lost to him. Did that speak to some unspoken fear he held? Certainly his response when he returned from the hospital implied so.

"I did not leave you, Carlisle," I pointed out tersely.

He sagged whatever he was holding onto seemingly gone. "I know, my love. I was scared. Alice was certain you'd come out of it on your own, but I wanted to wake you. Without Edward to know what to say to intervene and pull you out, I was at a loss, so I left you to it. I have never felt so useless as a husband before, and both Jasper and Alice recommended I go distract myself at the hospital, so I did."

"Did it help?" I asked him.

"Did what help, Esme?" he replied with a slight smile in his tone.

"Being at the hospital? Were Jasper and Alice correct?"

"Yes, but more so when I was nearing my shift and I realized that medicine holds little value without you. I had medicine before Edward and it didn't fill me like you do, like my family does. I value the work, but you are astronomically more important than how I spend my days or how many humans I help. You are my moon and my stars."

Grinning broadly I slyly said, "Sounds like it helped to me." Reflecting on his original question, since awakening, I had been sad and angry; I knew that for sure. But had it helped? "Yes, Carlisle, I suppose my imaginings did help," I told him truthfully.

He smiled ruefully. "You seem different than you have been since we left Forks."

"Yes, I suppose that is true," I agreed. "We have a lot to talk about."

He nodded and frowned, but said nothing.

"What reason did you give the hospital?" I asked curious, aware that a change in topic would be appreciated.

"That our son had run away, and although I thought I could work through it, I had been wrong." His tone was sad with a touch of defeat and the thickest I had heard his accent in a long time.

I nodded in agreement of this explanation.

"I'm on suspended leave with no pay, but they're holding the position for my return," he elaborated.

"That was generous of them," I commented.

"Yes, I suppose, but for a human father without our resources it would not have seemed generous."

I squeezed his hand that I hadn't let go of since we had crossed the border. "Your empathy and compassion astounds me even to this day, Carlisle. The world is a better place because you are in it."

"Thank you, Esme." He squeezed my hand back.

We settled into a more amicable silence for the next five hours and I enjoyed examining the landscape.

"I called to inform the caretakers that we would be arriving," I explained wanting conversation. "They doubted the drive would be passable, but I didn't want to take Emmett's Jeep. I offered triple the rate if they could find anyone to make a path, but there's no guarantee."

He just nodded seemingly lost in his thoughts.

"I told them that we expected to be snowed in for the next month at least, so we were bringing enough food to feed an army and to not bother with the care of the house until further notice, but that we would pay them their regular monthly fee nonetheless. We shouldn't be bothered."

"And the children?" he asked sadly.

"They will come up, but be in their own spaces. Alice will arrange the details for the four of them. They will arrive on Christmas Eve and we will spend some time together then."

He looked over at me. "I'm glad." More than half an hour went by before Carlisle spoke again. "Do you think Edward will join us?"

I frowned. "No, I don't Carlisle. I don't think he's ready yet, but just in case I enacted all the regular protocols. He can find us if he's in trouble."

He seemed to relax slightly. "Yes, I suppose your right. Christmas has always been bitter sweet for him."

"Yes." We both had noticed how quieter and more withdrawn Edward was around the holidays. There had been nothing to be done about it, except to attempt to be considerate of him.

The next seven hours the silence was strained and I returned to my thoughts. Before these past few days I had never allowed myself the luxury of imagining how life might have gone differently for Carlisle and I. As this was merely my imagination, there was no way to know how the small differences I had imagined might have changed things between Edward and Bella. However, I was certain they would have changed Carlisle and I. Perhaps that in itself would have, in important ways, altered Edward. Perhaps Carlisle could have given Edward a different example of how to interact with a human girl besides leaving her behind for her own good. Instead he could have given Edward an example that showed how to honour a lady and the rules while allowing for circumstances outside of anyone's control. What was becoming clearer and clearer to me was that Carlisle saw the situation with Bella through Edward's eyes and I saw it through Bella's.

Nevertheless, it wasn't my place to second guess Edward and Bella's relationship. Edward had always been stubborn and prone to do things the most difficult way possible. Maybe nothing could have changed that. Perhaps Bella, given her close proximity to the Quileutes, would have eventually, no matter what, found out the truth. Then there was the reality of how her blood called to him. I didn't even know how to account for that. No, I wasn't wise enough to figure out that puzzle.

Carlisle believed fervently that things would work out for the best. When his rational mind could do no more he believed in the sovereignty of his God. That was his experience. Up until Bella this had served him well. I understood all of that. What continued to puzzle me was how he had not digested Alice's certainty that Bella would become one of us, or Jasper's insistence that his gift made it unequivocally clear that Edward and Bella were mates.

Most grievously, when I compared my imaginings to the reality of how I came to be with Carlisle, I was certain that I had paid too high a price for Carlisle's inability to follow his heart. He had paid a high price as well; he just didn't know it. I suspected that one part of the price Carlisle was paying was that it had made him blind to truths he would have otherwise seen, and if we were not careful Jasper's prediction would come true, for where Carlisle went the family followed.

By the time we had arrived greeted by a tunnel, more than a path, to get to the cabin I had worked through things. I was able to see my two days simply as a gift that had changed me, had let go of my irrational wish to have the Carlisle next to me be the Carlisle of my imagining, had recognised my own failings, and had forgiven Carlisle as well as myself for all the steps that had brought us to this point. As I surveyed the tunnel I was grateful. Grateful to the humans who had worked hard so we could get to our home, grateful that I had an infinite amount of time with Carlisle instead of dying from my jump, grateful for my family even if we weren't together, and grateful that I had fallen in love with a man who despite the hardships, had created a space unlike any other.

After getting the car into the heated garage and our bags into our room, we headed out to run and see what we could find in terms of wildlife. We found a herd of caribou. I had finished mine and looked over to my husband always enjoying seeing this feral side of him. He wasn't ashamed of it; he rather accepted it as a part of who he was, but he rarely hunted with anyone but me. Consequently, I felt as if it was something private we shared. I came upon him quietly, pouncing upon his back, and licking the space from his neck up behind his ear in one motion. He froze and then growled playfully. He moved his body to offer me room so that he could share his meal with me. I didn't need any more exactly, but I took it as he meant it, a peace offering. I slid off his back and manoeuvred myself so that I was under him. I took a couple of mouth fulls before I gave the animal back to him. He finished it off and then stared at me.

Pulling him towards me, I opened my mouth and pushed the blood that I had kept into his. His eyes widened slightly and he smirked probably remembering the first time I had done that. Afterwards I had pointed out that humans did that sort of thing with wine and such. That had seemed to soften him out of his shock that I had done such a thing. When there was no more blood between us, he licked his lips before he proceeded to kiss me on every point not covered by clothes.

Oddly, his desire seemed fueled by something instinctual and needy. His love for me was there, for sure, but there was something else. For what had felt like ten years I had imagined myself living the life of an alternative Carlisle, one that followed his heart more than the one kissing and nipping at me.I needed to fully and completely put that experience behind me and simply take from the lessons my imaginings had given me and that I had uncovered since I had returned, and face my reality. My body, my heart, along with my mind needed to be connected to the man centimetres from me. It was a selfish need, for sure, but after all these decades of marriage one thing I had learned was that coupling often was tinged with selfishness. There was nothing inherently wrong with that as long as both of our needs were met.

I went to take my top off.

He held my hands briefly. "Are you sure, Esme? We haven't since …"

Since he had decision for us to leave Forks. He had never, not once, given me more than a gentle touch or chaste kiss since that day. He would never push me to do something I didn't want to do. It wasn't in his nature. But it had been more than that. He had been withholding himself and I needed his physical presence in a way that I hadn't in the months before my imagining.

"Yes, I know Carlisle. You are my husband and my mate," I told him hoping he understood, then suddenly I felt shy. "But," I paused, "if you're not ready, I would understand."

He looked at me sadly. "It's like when he left before, Esme. I feel as if I need you even more." He paused and looked thoughtful. Suddenly the fear I had seen after coming out of my imagining was there. "You really scared me, love. I know we need to talk. I want to talk, but I also want to hold you close and be your husband."

"Then hold me close now and we will talk later. Here Carlisle, we are just Carlisle and Esme. Let it go, Carlisle. You don't need to be strong for me."

I watched as he evaluated my words and look. Then his whole countenance changed and he sagged into me. I held him close until his hands found their way under my shirt.

Eight days later we still hadn't actually talked about much. We had told stories about things we remembered fondly about our early years. We had read together out feet touching or me lying on his chest. Although we kissed, we hadn't been intimate since the night we had arrived. I suspected that my husband was afraid to admit how much he needed me. He was exceptionally skilled at denying his needs.

I was laying on his lap reading while he read above me, both our legs tangled on the couch. "Carlisle, do you notice that we have complete privacy?"

He paused reading. "I did."

"Did you notice that you have no work and there are no children nearby?"

He was giving me his full attention now. "I did."

"Then why has it been so many days since," I paused deciding a different approach, "I am beginning to wonder if I merely caught you at a moment of instinct and your interest has waned." I looked up at him watching his reaction.

First he was confused, then embarrassed, then displeased.

"Esme," he scolded. "How could you think that?"

"How could I not, Carlisle?" I questioned sincerely. "I didn't take my sexy husband to an isolated cabin in the woods for chastity," I teased.

He smiled. "I apologize if I ever gave you that idea, my wonderful and beautiful wife. I had assumed you wanted to talk first and since I don't know where to start, I have been waiting for you to give me a sign." He grew solemn. "For the first time in our marriage, Esme, I feel as if I am on shaky ground, and I'm unwilling to do anything that might disrupt things further."

I could feel the truth in his words along with his fear. "You know that even though I might disagree with you that I'm not going to leave you?"

He looked uncertain.

I turned my body around and grabbed onto him tightly. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Carlisle, if I didn't make myself clear."

"You were," he said into my hair. "You were clear. I was alone for so long, Esme before you came," he sighed and deep melancholy was momentarily etched in his features, "and," he sputtered, "it's not like I doubt you," he paused gazing into my eyes his concern evident, "we've just never disagreed like this before. I didn't know what to do or how to fix us."

I sat with his words and how my imagining had helped me understand them better. "I spent a lot of time thinking, as you know."

He was getting nervous.

I wrapped my arms tighter. "I'm not going anywhere."

He relaxed a little.

"I realised what part I played in our current situation," I continued. "And I want to tell you what I imagined over those two days. And I want to do both those things before the children arrive. We need, as a family, to talk. But, Carlisle, I can't lead the family. Especially the boys, Emmett, but particularly Jasper, need your leadership. If we are lost, they are lost. They cling to one another as mates, but they look up to us. It is the roles we have chosen.

"Our family will dissolve, as well the dream you have cultivated, if we do not first get on the same page. But I have to tell you Carlisle you are not going to like what I have to say. I believe that what I saw will be difficult for you. There are so many things I should have said in the early years, but didn't. We don't have to have us completely sorted before they get here, but this wall between us has to go."

I could feel his tension. There was a part of him that wanted to pretend that nothing existed outside these four walls. I had the same sentiment. He didn't want to work on things between us, but then, honestly, neither did I, but this was what we needed to get through. We both knew we couldn't leave things to simmer as they had been. We had tried that long enough. Despite all those hesitations, though, we both would do what it took to get us back onto the same page and not for anyone else's benefit but our own. The stakes were too high not to.

I turned around so that I was looking at him and put his hands in mine.

"Carlisle, this is about Bella, but in a way it's not. It is more about me. So, I need you to do me a favour. I need you to not be a doctor or a father. Right now I just need you to be a husband. I need you to hear me."

"I always listen, Esme. You know that."

"I do, Carlisle, but the truth is that I believe that on a rare occasion, in the past, you have not been able to put aside your own perspective and see mine. At the same time, I shoulder much of the responsibility. I haven't been clear. I've hinted at things and dropped information, but I never really came out and told it to you beginning to end."

He looked at me like he didn't believe me.

"I wasn't dishonest. Don't get me wrong, Carlisle. It's not that. More I was embarrassed to talk about it and I didn't think you wanted to hear it."

He looked at me expectantly.

"All right then, I'm going to tell it like a story, from beginning to end. I'd like it if you could just to listen. When I get to the end you can ask as many questions as your heart desires. Are you okay with that?"

He sat thoughtful. "Anything, Esme, I would do anything for you. This is an easy request."

"You say that now," I warned teasingly.

"I have to admit that your lead up is making me nervous, though," he teased back.

I bashfully looked down at our hands. "It's just going to take a lot of courage to say this stuff out loud and I don't think I can get it all out if I get interrupted."

His eyes softened, but I could tell he was preparing himself like when I had talked about Charles, my horrific human husband.

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 _A/N: So, originally the next chapter was Esme's pov set in 1911, but my wonderful beta suggested, and I agreed, that it was unnecessary for the story I was telling. Consequently, I posted that chapter under "outtakes and oneshots". That way, if you want, you can read it. Or, you can just skip Esme's flashback and move straight on. Up to you._

 _Thank you so much for taking the time to give me your thoughts. It means a lot to me.  
_


	8. Truth and Stories

Beta: The incredible and amazing _kiwihipp_

(Updated 27 November)

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 **Chapter 8: Truth and Stories  
**

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It seemed prudent that before I told Carlisle about my imagining of him that I first describe what I should have decades ago–my impressions of him when we first met starting with my mishap in the tree. At first when the words from what happened all those years ago were spoken, predominately, I was nervous, concerned of how Carlisle would respond. Nevertheless, it only took to when Oliver had left to get Michael for me to be fully immersed in my story telling losing my sense of time and space. I was at the part when my 16-year-old self had written the note for Carlisle including how he might find our homestead.

"How is it possible that you retained such detail?" Carlisle asked shock pouring out of him.

Dazed and only slightly confused at being brought back to our cabin in Newfoundland my initial reaction was irritation. It had taken me such courage to speak such things and he had promised to not ask questions. However, as quickly as my irritation arrived, it left. Carlisle was, more than anything, curious. It is one of the many things that made him a good doctor and leader of our family. I had been well aware that my request would be difficult for him. Right after my irritation evaporated disappointed arrived. I had known that he doubted me in this regard without him ever having to say so. It was one of the things that had stopped me from talking about this before. Intuitively I had known that hurt would accompany this conversation.

Frowning, shaking my head at his doubt, I told him simply, "I could never forget the most memorable thing that happened in my human life."

"More than your son?" he challenged in disbelief his astonishment still very apparent on his features.

"Yes, Carlisle, even more than my son," I explained wounded at his scepticism.

He shook his head his face transforming into wonder. "You saw so much," he finally uttered.

His underestimation of me and of my connection to him was painful.

"How could I not, Carlisle?" I disputed my ire apparent. "You had my heart, not from when you changed me, but from the beginning," I stated firmly.

He stared at me in a stunned silence. When he finally spoke it was deeply grieved with an awe I had never heard from him before. "You loved me?"

Thinking back to Carlisle's answer to Edward from my imagining I pondered how to articulate my truth on this matter. Finally I settled on, "What is love but affection grown? The seed of love was there, but it was not given the chance to blossom. The seedling planted was so strong and so deep it changed my world and irrevocably connected me to you."

He looked as if I had slapped him. "What have I done?" he muttered to himself stilling completely.

In the past when he had been upset I would have automatically comforted him and attempted to assuage his sentiments. After watching his journey through my imagining, I was no longer sure if that was what was best for him in the long run. So, instead of enacting my old pattern, I watched him carefully to see if he needed my assurance or comfort all the while working through my own emotional storm that had arisen. After some time had passed, I had to wonder if my avoidance of speaking about this matter prior, came not just from my concern of how he would respond, which was obviously very warranted, but also because I hadn't wanted to face the emotions swelling within me. Had my insistence, since my transformation, to put my human life behind me and embrace each moment of my second life also been my way to avoid dealing with the pain of my past? Perhaps, my imaginings were nothing more than my mind's attempt to force myself to heal from the wounds still lingering.

Hours later when he seemed to come back to himself a bit more I asked him gently, "You ready for me to continue?"

Blinking rapidly his eyes met mine. "I am so sorry, love, for so many things. I am even more in wonderment of you and your devotion to me as your husband. You could have so easily hated me when I turned you." He shook his head again. "You are truly a remarkable woman, Miss Platt." He paused collecting himself some more and then smiled ruefully. "I didn't mean to interrupt, honestly."

"Carlisle," I warned, "your underestimation of my connection to you when we first met is hurtful, but your insinuation that instead of embracing that which my heart yearned for, embracing you, that I should have instead hated you or rejected you is insulting to me as an individual and to the kind of person I believe myself to be." My body responded in grief as I held his eyes trying to convey that although I understood what he meant by his words, they still had insulted me.

He frowned and his whole face indicated that he was struggling to reconcile his words with my reaction.

This was the price we, as a couple, were paying for him not following his heart a little more and the lessons he would have been gifted with if he had.

Eventually he simply looked at me and told me, "I did not mean to insult you, Esme. I meant it as a compliment. You impress me."

Letting out a great sigh, I told him, "I know, Carlisle. I know how you meant it. That does not change that your words indicate your lack of faith in me and my connection to you back then. It does not change the fact that even though I was quite bold in my advances, you had dismissed the risk I took to reach out to you, until I told you how I saw those hours, or that your first reaction upon hearing my perspective was disbelief, _"_ I protested sharply my tone cutting while my mind was consumed with the price his so-called moral high road had cost me.

The moment that thought crossed my mind I calmed myself, chastising myself. With retrospect it looked so obvious, but I had just spent two days imagining life from Carlisle's point of view. Those moments, if my imagining had been accurate, were full of his uncertainty and desire to do what was right by me and by himself. I could not ask him to change his moral code. Just as quickly as my frustration and irritation flared it cooled and left leaving disappointment and hurt.

"Esme," he said in a whisper as if grovelling.

Putting up my head, I pleaded, "Carlisle, I am sorry. I should not have taken my hurt out on you like that. Please let me finish."

"I just–" he started before I interrupted.

"I know, Carlisle, and it's okay. This is why I had requested that you hold your questions until I was done. Please, let me finish," I pleaded once more.

He appeared admonished, which had not been my intention.

"May I continue?" I asked him gently.

"Certainly, I apologise," he uttered.

I suspected that his apology was meant to cover more than his interruption.

"Thank you, dear sir," I said regally and then a bowed my head a little.

We sat in silence waiting for him to work through whatever was holding his attention, while I worked on disentangling my own inner life, hoping that by my doing so I would never again respond to my sweet compassionate husband as I had just done.

When his eyes focused back on me with a self-conscious appearance I continued, "The truth, as difficult as it may be to hear, Carlisle, was that you ruined me. I went back home and hoped that any minute you would come, but you never did. Eventually, I had to accept that there really was no way for us to be together, but that didn't stop me from comparing every man who came to my door to you.

"My leg healed, I worked the farm, and one by one potential suitors were sent away simply because they were not you. By the time that I was twenty-two, nearly a spinster, Mother was getting particularly desperate. Through some cousins she found out that Charles was looking for a wife. It had been a while since any suitors had called. Before he came Mother took me aside. She reminded me of my familial obligations and the ruin for the family's, as well as my own future, if I were not to be wed.

"I didn't really want a future that didn't include you, but I also didn't want to see my parents suffer, so when Charles came calling I minded my Ps and Qs. It didn't take him long to ask Father permission for my hand and we were married shortly after. Although I tried to give him what he needed practically, our marriage was terribly unfair to him. I could not love him as a wife should simply because I had already given my heart over to you. I took every beating from him without complaint because I knew that I deserved them for not being able to love him, my husband, and worse still secretly hoping that one day you would rush in, tell me that you wanted me, and save me from my marriage.

"When my son was placed in my arms I was able to feel a connection as strong as I had for you, different, but still. I realize now that I clung onto my son because I had already lost you and I couldn't bear the thought of losing something so core to my heart once more. Thus, it is ironic that my suicide brought us together because, of course, in the end you did fulfil my fantasy, just not the way I had imagined. So, you see Carlisle, when I opened my eyes after the change and saw you it was the third best day of my life. Being with you, marrying you, being your wife, mothering our children has been the fulfilment of everything I could of hoped for.

"Edward knows this, I presume, but he might not have created the same parallels or conclusions that I do. I should have explained all of this to you ages ago, in the beginning really, but I was just so happy to finally have you. I didn't want to think about my human years after opening my eyes in this second life. I wanted to bury my son and with him everything in between our first and second meetings. I owe you the greatest of apologies. I should have said something sooner. I should have told you this, decades ago. Forgive me."

Carlisle looked at me as if I had grown antlers waiting to see if I would say more. When it was clear that I was done he insisted, "There is nothing to forgive."

"There is, Carlisle," I told him fervently. "I have believed, since we met when I was sixteen, that we were made for one another. I didn't have the courage in 1911 to tell you so, or in 1921, or in any years after. I have done you and, thereby, our marriage a great disservice," I told him truthfully.

"I was a fool," he simply muttered under his breath as if he hadn't heard me at all. His eyes were downcast and he looked so sad. There was also a tone of defeat and humiliation.

I hesitated to speak the truth. Didn't Carlisle's God say that the truth would set you free? Well, he needed to be set free. So I took a deep breath and said what should have been said decades ago.

"Yes, Carlisle, you were a fool. God gave you an amazing gift, you squandered it with rationalizations, and have continued to hold onto your beliefs in your own infallibility on this matter with a fervency that is unlike you."

Minutes upon minutes passed with him nearly statuesque. "I couldn't see out of my arrogant assurance in my rationale. You seemed too good to take the risk of killing you. Not to mention how selfish such an act would have been. I was scared, and didn't know it," he admitted grievously.

"Much of that might be true, Carlisle, but I love you still. Nothing has changed that," I assured him hoping my words would soothe the impact my truths had caused, because my love for him was unfailing, even in the midst of everything these past months.

He looked at me in shock. "How can you? I could have saved you so much suffering. I could have prevented …"

His admission did something within me. For the first time I felt seen and heard about this topic. It was like stitches, closing the wound, and allowing the healing process to begin. The scar would remain, nonetheless my whole essence filled with appreciation for the man across from me. It might have taken him ninety-four years, but at least he had gotten there. My fear that he would have, even after I had told my story, rejected my point of view was swept away, and I realised how entirely foolish I had been to allow my fear of his response, along with my desire to avoid the pain the telling required, to inhibit this healing process. My cowardliness had cost us so much.

Squeezing his hand and ensuring that my adoration for him was apparent, I told him, "Because it is all part of the package. You are a man of science, Carlisle. It is how your creator made you. I imagine that you were much like you are now as a human. That is how you found that coven in the sewers. It is how you could live with yourself and choose your diet even as a newborn. You are rational and level headed and kind and compassionate in degrees that are not found in mortal men." I smiled at him.

He smiled back reluctantly.

"But all strengths come with them weaknesses," I continued. Feeling the need to point out that we still had a lot more to work through, I added, "This is yours."

"You always have brought mine to bear, love. I just would have never wanted you to pay the price for it."

"I would pay it one hundred fold if I got to have you," I told him ardently.

He shook his head indulgently, but his eyes told me that he still had not completely reconciled my telling. "You knew all this time?"

"Yes," I agreed.

"You never once harboured ill-will about it?" he questioned, his tone slow and hesitant as if he were feeling out the words as he spoke them.

"No, not really, there were moments of fleeting irritations or hurt, but not ill-will, no, not until the vote to leave Forks," I admitted.

His eyes grew as if he were putting pieces together he had never seen before.

Although I had wanted him to have time to process my story before I told the next one, I didn't want to linger here. There was more to tell, after all. "I think I need to tell you what I imagined for those two days now."

He nodded nervously, afraid, I think, of what would come next.

"Are you sure love?" I asked seriously and then added playfully, "You didn't even get through my telling of meeting you at sixteen."

"Yes," he groused then his features softened. "I need to hear it. Please, my darling, tell your story. I promise to listen only until you are done."

Eying him closely, he seemed ready this time.

For the next four days we sat, while I spoke at a quick human pace describing every detail I saw, every sound I heard, everything that was in my imagining. True to his word he never interrupted me. I was lost in that world and the time and space where my body dwelt became irrelevant. When I finally ended the tale, coming back to reality and looking into his eyes, he appeared broken.

True or not I felt as if I had caused the expression on his face that I had never prior seen, not even when it became clear that Edward had run away. This time I could not stay seated and watch him, so moved towards him and wrapped him in my arms holding him tight. He clung to me, but otherwise did not respond. We stayed like that while the sun rose and set twice.

"Do you think it might have been?" he finally uttered in such quiet desolation that he might have been speaking to his God.

"I don't know for sure, Carlisle," I told him in the softest of tones allowing my own wish that my imagining would have been our story to come through. "I can tell you that it felt real for me. It feels as real as my human memories, perhaps even more. It changed me. When I woke up in Ithaca it was as if I had become the Esme that would have been if my imagining had been true."

He sat still pondering. When he finally spoke he whispered in a confessional tone. "I didn't know it, then, Esme, but I was attracted to everything about that sixteen-year-old version of you–your tenacity, your forwardness, and your unconventional ways. I admired your intelligence and tender heart. If I could have saved her from ill words and harsh hands I would have. I simply lacked the capacity to consider anything but the best of human lives for her."

His whole body started shaking and he wrapped his arms around me and drew me into him so strongly that I had to wonder if his newborn strength had returned to him. Despite the confusion it had caused at the time, I was immensely glad that I had the hours after my awakening in Ithaca to sort through my emotions. I had even more time during our long drive here. Because combined they had allowed me to have the capacity to support Carlisle in how he needed. It also reminded me of the conclusions I had reached and to once more find peace and to be grateful.

When he had calmed down enough I pulled back and looked at him tenderly. "We had this conversation many years ago and I will repeat myself. It's not your fault. Charles' actions do not fall on your shoulders. In fact, Carlisle, in retrospect the problem lies with me. If I had not held onto you so strongly and hoped for your return so insistently, things might have been much different for me. Charles' actions are Charles' fault. The part that saddens me is that, as a result of my imagining, I could clearly see that something within myself was lost because of Charles.

"I felt, in this alternative possibility, that even if my husband had still behaved poorly, that spark in me wouldn't have been extinguished completely, because I would have had you, even if was merely through letters. Knowing you were out there and were there, if I needed," I paused collecting my thoughts. "My education and your letters gave me courage because they meant something to me. They strengthened me and gave me hope. That hope was something that I didn't have with Charles. With Charles I could only wish for you. It made a difference."

"I was a fool," he stated forcefully.

"Yes," I agreed softly, "And I love you."

My words seemed to break him and comfort him in equal measure. He pulled me in tightly, but not quite as much as before.

"Do you forgive me for my failings?" he asked when he had loosened his grip hours later.

"There was nothing to forgive," I replied simply and honestly.

"I should have," he started and then stopped. "I never thought," he sputtered and then paused. "I didn't see," he stated simply after a few moments.

I moved out of his arms slightly and grabbed his cheeks and said firmly, "I know, Carlisle. I know. You are who you are."

"The pain caused by my choices cannot be undone."

"No," I agreed.

"I tried," he started and then stopped. "I thought," he began again, but then didn't continue. "Oh, I am so sorry," he finally voiced his whole continence in agony.

Whatever wounds his leaving me all those years ago remained were stitched up by his words and his struggles telling me without doubt that he had come to truly appreciate my perspective.

"We can only do our best," I told him. Pulling back, I held his eyes steadily. "I need you to hear me, Carlisle. You did your best. You thought it was the right thing. All you can do is learn from it now that my telling is done. I can see that you tried your best. On my part I should not have said what I did after you interrupted me earlier. As silly as it is, part of my hurt was because I had within me this imagined alternative version of you and wished for that which cannot be. I thought I had let go of those useless thoughts and the feelings they conjured, but clearly your reaction to my memory of you when I was sixteen brought them back up. I cannot promise that those fleeting moments won't return, but I can say that I am aware of their futility."

"You have the right to be upset," he murmured.

"Yes, but not about choices you didn't take. My imagining is a gift that restored and healed me, but it also brought to light thoughts and feelings that were previously hidden. I am imperfect, Carlisle. All I can say is that I'm working on it."

He kissed my head, but said nothing seemingly lost in his thoughts.

Laying back into his arms, I listened to the precise repetitive pattern of his breathing. I would bet a person could set a watch by it. Hours later I felt his features shift.

"Do you see me as a man who lives my life by faith?" he asked tentatively as if afraid of what I might say.

I took in his scent knowing the answer and his reaction before I spoke it. "No," I whispered gently.

His eyes were inexpressibly sad, more than I had never seen before. "My father was right," he uttered defeated.

This caught me off guard. This statement was so unlike Carlisle. I looked at him perplexed.

"I don't remember everything my father used to say, of course," he started to say as if he intuitively knew I would be confused. "But I remember a few things. One of them was that I wasn't a man of faith. I've always dismissed it, telling myself that he made that statement because I didn't agree with him."

"That might be true, my love," I stated reassuringly.

He nodded his head as if he agreed, but there was something else going on with him. "Perhaps, but he was right nonetheless."

"You are a man of science first," I told him bluntly after carefully considering the implication of what he was saying.

"And perhaps that is a good thing, but maybe for the first time instead of just dismissing my father's words I can see the truth in them. You, my dear, even after all these years, who still aren't convinced that God exists, live your life almost entirely by faith, faith in me, faith in our children, faith in our love, faith in our family, faith that we all deserve happiness, and that things will work out."

Waiting I watched him wrestle with whatever he was trying to express.

"I, on the other hand," he spit out as if the words disgusted him, "believe in God, but live by reason, not by faith." There was bitterness in his words that I had never heard from him. "In your imagining I chose faith instead of reason. I took a risk and followed my heart, even though it wasn't the most rational choice. I still was cautious. I still followed the rules. I still was me. It's like your story was absolutely and completely me bar one difference–when it counted and I was stuck between two right choices I followed me heart and had faith."

I moved my arms to his shoulders, knowing he needed my touch, but that he was lost in his own mind.

After giving him some time, I asked deadpan, "Carlisle, did you, after all these years develop a God complex like those other human doctors?"

He blinked rapidly, which was really cute. I loved how he acted human when he got flustered, but just like in 1911 it was just slightly off, because it wasn't random enough. Humans are much more random than we could ever be.

"No," he spluttered.

"Are you simply a creature attempting to do the best you can and learning to improve along the way?"

"Yes," he answered with a nearly paranoid tone as if he was certain I was leading him over a cliff.

"Then be kind to yourself. You did the best you knew how in the circumstances."

His mouth opened and closed many times in succession before he finally spoke. "I was wrong, Esme. " His words were earnest. "Aren't you telling our children not to rely on their gifts too much?"

I smiled at the memories that brought up.

"I am guilty of the same," he stated emphatically.

He frowned and I with him.

"I relied on rational thought too much. I believed with conviction that as long as I made the rational choice that it would work out."

"I know, Carlisle, I know," I said soothingly.

Hours passed as I stroked his arms and neck and back.

"This is why you voted to stay," he stated solemnly when he spoke again.

"Yes," I answered meekly.

This topic, while the catalyst, made me nervous. I had no way to gauge where Carlisle's mind was at regarding it.

"Because even though it wasn't the rational choice you knew either from your experience or intuitively that staying was what your heart wanted." There was no question here. He was speaking his conclusions out loud.

"Yes," I answered even more timidly.

"I was wrong." His tone was so low and so assured it took me back.

Balm to my heart and soul I felt myself completely relax and molded myself into his form. All my concern and nervousness had been for naught, thankfully.

"Not wrong, per say," I corrected him after some time had passed. "We simply saw the same thing from two different vantage points. Maybe leaving was what was needed for our family, for you to learn and grow, and for Edward. I might have been wrong. Who I am to say? I disagreed with us leaving. That was enough for me to vote no. But I was as biased as you. I saw myself in Bella. I didn't want my story to become hers. I believe she has given her heart away just as I had. If I'm right, she will not be able to love another, not fully, not properly anyway. Then again, she is not me. Maybe I'm wrong." I sighed unhappily.

"I have yet to know you to be wrong on these matters," he cooed conspiratorially. Then his mind was elsewhere again. "And Edward?" he finally croaked out.

"Edward runs when he doesn't know how to deal with his feelings. He will return," I told him assuredly.

"At what cost?" he questioned grieved.

"I don't know. But we are no longer the parents of one. We have six to think about. He will always be ours, but he cannot be your primary concern any longer," I reminded him gently.

"I just," he sputtered. "They have each other," he spoke uttering his half formed thoughts, although I knew what he meant.

I wrapped him in my arms again. "I know my sweet man, I know. I love him too, but we cannot save him from himself now anymore than we could when he left the first time."

After a minute he leaned back. "I thought if we left as a family he would stay."

"I didn't," I admitted even though it was difficult for me to do so.

"You didn't?" he asked incredulously.

"No, I suspected that eventually Edward would find an excuse to run. Victoria is a better reason than returning to his old ways, but he is hunting just the same. He is trying to run and distract himself from his pain and confusion, focusing on his vampiric nature rather than his human emotions. It's how he handles things. Hopefully one day he will find a better way, because just as before, I suspect that it will catch up with him eventually."

Carlisle looked startled and unsure of my words. "I wanted to spare him that," he admitted hesitantly after a while.

I hoped that he could see in my expression that I understood the sentiment. All parents want to protect their children from pain. But I had realized the first time Edward ran away: sometimes children need pain to learn a lesson they are unwilling to learn from their parents. And Edward was incredibly strong-willed, arrogant, and stubborn. I could only hope being away from Bella was what he needed. But this was not the time to take care of Edward.

Looking into the beautiful eyes of my husband, I told him earnestly, "Carlisle, Edward is so much like you. He also relies on his reason too much. Everything he said was rational. There was no heart. There was no faith, but you have something he does not–hope and belief in your soul. Those two things make a world of difference. He is hopeless and cannot see past his pain. And his belief that we do not have souls removes for him the option of her being deeply connected to him.

"None of that would change things for her, though. I believe that she is connected to him as much or perhaps more than I was to you as a human. I believe that she will not move past this. Not really. She might learn to cope and will manage and will pretend to be alive as I did, but she won't ever truly live again. They are mates."

"But," he stuttered before composing himself, "but she is human." His eyes widened as if a truth had just hit him.

Briefly the hurt and irritation resurfaced. I realised that even though his words had closed the wounds, in many ways they were still easily inflamed. That was probably part of the process that I had skipped in my desire to simply put it all behind me.

"Exactly," I told him hoping that my change of continence hadn't registered. Calming myself and reminding myself that this was all new to him I stated gently, "she is human and is to him what I am to you. She cannot change it any more than I could."

"He does not see that she could care for him as he does her," he said as if he was just beginning to understand Edward.

"Did you?" I challenged him my irritation coming through more than I wanted it to.

He took the time to go through his memories before answering. "No. No, my love; I never considered the idea that I might have had such an irrevocable impact on you."

"You have your answer," I told him simply swallowing my own desire to point out how his inability to see that truth was so painful. That was a subject for another day.

"Yes, I suppose I do," he stated giving no indication that he noticed my reactions. After a pregnant pause, he claimed, "I have made a mess of things."

"Yes," I agreed simply unable to find the words to soothe him as I might have done on other occasions.

"I gave him my word," he muttered as if he was at war with the conclusion he had just made.

The idea that he was almost refusing to allow himself to change because he had promised Edward irked me, but Carlisle was a man of his word and thus he was only speaking from one of his core values. It was one of the things that I loved about him, despite how it might be manifesting in this moment.

"And you cannot change how you see things and act accordingly?" I pressed.

"He's counting on me," he retorted.

"Yes," I agreed assuredly, "absolutely. He's counting on you to be his father, to lead him where he needs to go, even if he struggles against it every inch of the way. He is counting on you to be his model. He will take his cues from you, even if it is the humility of acknowledging a mistake and being willing to change when you see things differently. These things cannot come from me. He's counting on you to show him what it means to be a man rather than a boy."

He sat digesting my words. "Yes, you're right," he admitted after a while. "How did I end up with such a wise wife?" He was smiling playfully, but his eyes look immeasurably sad.

"Divine providence?" I teased him.

He looked as if I had slapped him. "Never again woman will I utter those words. My eyes have been opened to see the folly of that reasoning," he groaned.

"We are both infallible creatures, Carlisle. Doesn't your scriptures speak of repentance, forgiveness, and redemption? These are qualities that few live. We are bound to make mistakes. It is not the mistake in which we should dwell. We have both admitted our errors to the other, we have asked for forgiveness. What is left is redemption. As much as we can, we need to heal the wounds that we have created in each other and our family. These things will take time and will not be solved in the next two days before we have company."

He seemed absorbed in my words for a while. When his eyes caught mine he smiled ruefully.

"Now that we've talked …" I asked ravishing him with my eyes needing for us to connect as husband and wife, and allow our physical contact to unite us and soothe us in ways that words couldn't. Words were always primary, but since the words had been spoken ...

"Are you sure?" he asked cautiously, but his whole presence seemed to be hungering for physical connection.

"Without a doubt. You are my husband and the rest will take time, but for now I wish to feel you and touch you as a wife."

"No man is as blessed as I," he pronounced before kissing me passionately seemingly needing assurances that I was still his wife, despite all that had passed between us.

There was something different in the air as we joined together as one. Everything felt more raw, more intimate, and passionate. Our days of talking had been worth it for what we gained between us in the aftermath. I just hoped that we were ready for our children's arrival and all that would mean.

We were lost in each other and I lost the sense of time and space once more. One of the times we paused Carlisle realised that their arrival wasn't too far off. Despite out reluctance to part, we decided that clothes would be best while preparing ourselves and the house for their appearance. The sun was rising on Christmas Eve and although we didn't know exactly when they would be pulling in, we had assumed that they would want to hunt once we all were gathered.

Alice and Jasper arrived first. "Yes, you were right to wait. Rosalie and Emmett will be here in three hours. We'll all hunt then," Alice greeted us as she opened the passenger's door.

Smiling at Alice I went and hugged her, and then greeted Jasper.

"I missed you, my beautiful girl. Come to the couch and tell me all about things," I told Alice ushering her inside while Carlisle stayed outside engaged Jasper in conversation about being in college.

Alice and I went and sat down on the sofas.

"Were you able to do as I requested?" I asked her gently.

Alice's face frowned. "I did until you decided to talk to us all. I saw some things after that. More than I wanted, really."

I smiled mischievously. "The cost of looking beyond the decision I would guess."

She smiled widely back at me as if she had been caught. "Yes, I suppose that's true. And I did manage not to use my gift to search like I usually do, except for Edward. I'm still keeping an eye on him."

"Yes, we're all worried," I concurred.

Her smile turned grim probably at something she had seen him do, but didn't want to voice his decisions. I waited patiently as she took a few seconds to collect herself once more. "It was hard at first," she admitted, "but you were right. It especially made things sweeter between Jazz and I."

Patting her arm my pride in her shined through in my smile. "I'm glad, Alice. I'm really glad. What have you learned thus far from doing so?"

She smiled grimly, "That I'm impatient."

Smiling warmly at her I assured her that wasn't a surprise.

She sighed knowingly. "I also learned that I worry a lot and feel anxious when I can't check on the people I love. I was alone for so long, Esme, before it was the right time to meet Jazz, and the only company I had was my visions of you, Carlisle, Edward, and then Rosalie and Emmett. Jasper almost died so many times, that I often preferred checking on the diner than actively search for him."

I wrapped my hands around hers.

"It's scary to just trust that you guys are okay," she admitted softly after we had separated.

"Yes, it is Alice, that's why they say faith isn't for the faint of heart."

Her lips tightened. "Are you suggesting that if I had more faith it wouldn't be so hard? You know I don't believe in Carlisle's God."

Shaking my head, I tried to explain. "No, I'm saying that the trust in which you are speaking about could also be described as having faith. You're having faith that we will be okay, even if you don't check."

"Hmm," she mused. When she looked back up at me I could tell my words pleased her. "Not for the faint of heart, huh?"

"No," I agreed with a smile. "So, tell me all of what you found in regards to your human family," I commanded knowing she needed a change of subject.

"Well, I had to use my gift a lot for that, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten anywhere." She rolled her eyes.

"Naturally," I agreed.

"Naturally," she concurred clearly relieved I hadn't contradicted her. "I found out that I had a sister who had kids, so I'm an Aunt and Great Aunt or something. Yes, I'll repeat it all in detail once everyone's here. I found my gravestone and my sister's …"

I sat and listened as Alice spoke in quick succession without pause and I basked in the joy it was to have her as my daughter. She brought such exuberance and hope to our household. She was just as opinionated and stubborn as the Rosalie or Edward, but somehow her bubbly personality made it easier to handle.

She had been going non-stop for three hours when she stopped in the middle of a sentence. "They'll be here in 22 minutes."

"Want to get your stuff settled in, Alice? Jasper?" I asked raising my voice slightly to include him, "before they arrive. This place only has three rooms. We picked the one with the master suite, so you four will need to share the hall shower."

"What happened to your _standards_?" admonished Alice.

"This was meant to be a honeymoon getaway not a family resort," I pointed out teasingly. "Remember, Alice, you booked cabins nearby for you and Jasper starting tomorrow. You only have to suffer here for a little over twenty-four hours."

"I suppose I'll survive." Then she sighed heavily.

Outside Jasper shook his head slightly at his wife's antics. She was teasing, mostly. As they went to get their bags, I stood up seeing if they wanted help and Carlisle came behind me wrapping his arms around my midsection and then kissed my neck where it met my shoulder.

"Miss me?" he breathed into my ear.

"Of course," I replied.

"Ready to get rid of them?" he whispered into my ear lightly.

"No, but glad they're not staying long. I miss having you to myself already."

"And I you." He paused laying his head on my shoulder and taking in deep even breaths. "I would be lost without you, my love. I owe you everything good in my life."

"Medicine?" I challenged him playfully.

"A world of black and while in comparison to the colour you bring."

I smiled at the sweet compliment. There had been something tender and intimate physically and emotionally between us these past days. The gaps that had threatened to tear us apart had widened completely creating individual islands, and then in the same breath we had been remade. These islands had acted like puzzle pieces that had come together in a slightly more affirming way both as individuals and as a couple. This new us was more than welcomed after the tension that had been between us the previous months. More silence passed as we simply basked in each other's presence. I could hear another car coming up the drive.

"Thank you for trusting me and taking my words to heart," I spoke earnestly.

"It was the least I could do," he argued.

I turned around and looked him sternly in the eyes. "No. It was the most. It was the most I could ask for. Thank you."

He kissed me lightly.

I turned around in his arms so we could greet Rosalie and Emmett as they came in.

"God, you two, get a room," Emmett greeted us as he opened the door.

"Actually we got a whole house, Emmett. It's not our fault you decided to show up," Carlisle deadpanned.

Rosalie's, Emmett's and, out of the corner of my eye, I spied Alice's as well as Jasper's jaws drop open. This was certainly a side of Carlisle they weren't used to. It was the Carlisle usually only reserved for me. I stood wearing a wide proud smile.

"Well, sorry, old man," Emmett finally retorted. "And here I thought I was wanted." Then he put on the most adorable pout.

I went over and swatted his arm before hugging him. "You're incorrigible."

He smirked. "So encourage me."

"That joke is older than Carlisle, Emmett, get new material," Jasper teased.

"Not when the old stuff works so well," Emmett beamed.

Their wives smirked at their husbands and then we all exchanged hellos.

Rosalie whispered in my ear when she brought me close, "I missed you, Mom."

It was the strongest sentiment she had made in many years, decades maybe. Evidently us leaving the family home and retreating had had a greater impact on her than I had expected. I knew that she also meant that she missed our family together. She, of everyone, disliked when things changed unexpectedly.

I pulled back and looked her in the eye. "I missed you too Rosalie."

She looked away, nodded, and then greeted Carlisle.

"Hey, Mom," Emmett roared while he squeezed me as if my hug hadn't satisfied him.

I smiled at his exploits. He sure did bring a lot of life to our family.

Once the greetings had ended and everyone had settled down, Carlisle spoke up. "Esme and I waited to hunt assuming that you all would be interested in joining us."

"Absolutely," Emmett laughed loudly.

"That would be good," Jasper stated at the same time as Emmett.

Rosalie nodded and Alice's eyes glazed over.

"Alice," I warned.

"Sorry, Mom," she immediately said meekly. "I would love to join you as well," she added.

Smiling widely I wrapped my arm around her. "That's my girl," I praised her.

The rest of the family watched our exchange a bit puzzled. Carlisle eyed me and I smiled back hoping to convey the message through my look that I would talk to him later about it.

He smiled back at me and nodded.

"Ladies first?" Carlisle offered.

Both boys looked shocked.

"Uh-huh," Emmett started to argue. "No way." Then he looked at us three women and deflated. "Fine, then, since it's Christmas Eve and everything." I gave him a peck on the cheek as I ran into the woods.

"Ten second head start," Rosalie yelled at the boys as we left.

I could see their jaws drop, but then all of them grinned mischievously, even Carlisle. And for the first time I felt assured, Edward or not, that we were a family. It would be difficult, but we would get through this together.

By the time we got back the sun had risen on Christmas Day. It had been truly enjoyable to be together, to watch the boys be playful with one another, and to enjoy each other's company, even if we were one short.

"Are we going to call him?" Rosalie asked gruffly after we had only just settled into the house.

"Yes," answered Carlisle with a calm tone.

He surveyed everyone taking a poll. The consensus was to do it without waiting longer.

Carlisle went and got the satellite phone and dialled Edward's number.

It connected, but he said nothing.

"Merry Christmas, son," greeted Carlisle.

"Merry Christmas, Edward," I said warmly hoping those three words conveyed my love for him.

"Merry Christmas. Wish you were here with us," Emmett offered.

"Merry Christmas, Edward," Rosalie stated softly.

"Merry Christmas, Edward. Miss you," was Alice's greeting.

"Merry Christmas, Edward," was Jasper's.

We waited and waited. Finally we heard the softest of "Merry Christmas."

"Will we see you later today or tomorrow?" Carlisle asked.

I could hear the hope in his voice, but it contained much less expectation than in the past. He was letting Edward go, but hoping he would return. I was proud of my husband.

"No, not this year," was the reply.

I saw Alice open her mouth, but Jasper put his hand over it and shook his head. She looked downtrodden, but nodded and closed her mouth again.

"Well, if you change your mind we're all in Newfoundland through the New Years," Carlisle offered gently, then added, "We all miss you and would be glad to see you." The strength and conviction in his words was strong.

"I miss you all too," Edward murmured despondently.

"In that case, I hope we see you soon." Once again the message from Carlisle was clear. He was giving his son his space, but would always welcome him back home.

"Not this time," Edward stated, but he didn't sound convinced of his own words.

"The door is always open," Carlisle reiterated.

"Yes, I know. This is just something I need to do."

"Our offer of assistance is always there. All of us, but especially, Emmett and Jasper would gladly hop on a plane right now if you needed. They're both itching for a bit of adventure, after all."

"Yes, I know," he sighed.

"All right, well, let us know if that changes," Carlisle told him firmly.

"I will."

There was a pause where we waited to see if he would say anything more.

"Edward?" Carlisle asked gently in a voice that was merely confirming that he was still there.

"Yes?" he muttered.

"Just one more thing. While we're all gathered we're going to discuss family business. Do you want us to conference you in?"

There was a long pause. "No, that's alright."

"Are you sure, son?" he asked his voice burdened.

Edward sighed heavily. "Yes."

"All right," Carlisle said hesitantly, "if you're sure."

"I am."

Carlisle held up his index finger and looked expectantly at us all. Then he held up two and then a third.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!" we all bellowed together.

"Love you," I added and then everyone else added the same sentiment, although both Emmett and Jasper added bro to the end of theirs.

"Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night," was the leaden answer. Then the phone disconnected.

It didn't take long before Rosalie demanded, "Enough of that. Let's play a family game. And no cheating."

"Trivial Pursuit?" Carlisle offered and I could see his eyes light up like a little boy given his favourite treat.

"Without Edward it might be a fair game," Emmett relented. "No gifts," he emphasized looking sternly at Alice and then a glance at Jasper.

They both nodded in agreement, Alice exuberantly and Jasper just the once.

I brought my arm around Alice's shoulder. "It's good practice."

"I know," she grumbled but there was no strength in her resistance.

I rubbed her arm in encouragement.

We rearranged the living room to make a space so each couple could sit together and the board was in the centre. Carlisle and Jasper were neck and neck to the end with Jasper winning with a bit of luck at the end.

"Good game," Carlisle offered while he shook Jasper's hand.

"Want to wrestle," Emmett asked Jasper after the game was put away.

"Sure," he responded while he looked at his wife who nodded, without searching the future.

I beamed in pride. Going over to Carlisle I leaned into his ear, "Go out and bond with your sons. That's an order." I leaned back and smiled wickedly.

"Now how could I argue with that?" he asked while he swatted my backside playfully on the way out.

Rose looked at me with wide eyes. "What did you say?" she asked conspiratorially.

"All of us wives have our own tricks," I smirked.

She smiled back. "Yes, we do."

"So, what do us ladies want to do?" I asked them.

"Nails?" suggested Alice.

"Movie?" suggested Rosalie.

"Both?" I offered.

"Both," they agreed together.

Alice went to get her polishes and nail equipment while Rosalie went to pick a movie.

"This place has a horrible collection," Rosalie whined.

"Well, Rose, it's not a location for movie watching," I teased.

"Really, Esme? What has gotten into you and Carlisle?" she stated in a tone that sounding like a scolding. "Last time I saw you, you were holed up in a window and Carlisle was working too much."

Smiling I went and put my hands on her shoulders. "Rose?"

She stubbornly looked at the ground.

"Rose, look at me," I ordered my tone soft.

Slowly and hesitantly she lifted her head.

"It's good. We cleaned up old business. We're planning on telling you all about it at the family meeting later this week. Okay?"

She nodded looking so scared.

"Oh, Rose," I uttered compassionately grabbing her tight. "It's okay. We've been married a long time. We just needed time to work on things between the two of us. I promise we'll share later, but it's all good."

She nodded slowly and I could feel her stiffen into her usual posture, so I let her go.

"If you must know, I was forbidden to look, so I have no clue either," Alice whined coming into the living room. "I just know that they decided to talk to us all, but I can't see past us gathering because they haven't decided what to say and thus we haven't made a decision as a family."

Rosalie looked surprised and pleased at Alice's news.

"Okay," Rosalie relented, but I knew she wouldn't completely let it go.

"Okay," I restated in support of her.

"I got the stuff," Alice exclaimed.

"Why did you bring this if you didn't check, Alice?" I asked curiously.

"I came prepared, just in case, without checking."

Rosalie and I smiled.

Rosalie said, "I chose Casablanca," and turned to put the movie in.

"Thank you," I mouthed to Alice and glanced over to Rosalie.

She nodded.

I hoped that Alice could see what a difference it made to Rosalie that she didn't have much more of a notice than anyone else.

It was great to see how these small changes were creating positive ripples in our family. Nevertheless, I was nervous for what effects telling them about my imaginings would occur.


	9. Reverberations

Beta: The incredible and amazing _kiwihipp_

(Updated 29 November)

* * *

 **Chapter 9: Reverberations**

* * *

Sitting with Alice and Rosalie as they nattered away about silly inconsequential things brought me such contentment. I was truly blessed.

Our nails painted, the movie finished, and the boys still outside caused a brief pause in conversation.

"Another?" asked Rosalie undoubtedly to fill the silence.

"As long as you also tell me how your travels have been," I demanded gently while smiling at her.

"Sure," she agreed easily.

She got up and put in It's A Wonderful Life.

She told stories. Alice and I asked questions. The movie finished and she was still regaling her travels when the boys walked in soggy.

Emmett barrelled in and grabbed Rosalie and kissed her fervently.

I glared at him and when I caught his eyes looked him up and down.

"Yes, ma'am," he stated reprimanded before heading off to the mudroom.

Soon after they all came in dry.

"Rose was just telling us about her adventures," I explained catching them up.

We all settled in couples and listened to Rosalie and Emmett tell their stories, quarrel about the stories, and disagree about the telling of their stories. It was wonderful to watch. Then Alice told of her searches for her family, all that she had done to find them, and all that she had learned about herself thus far.

At the end she turned to Carlisle. "At the family meeting, I'd like to talk about setting up some kind of financial support for them. Most of them are quite poor and we have more than enough." Her eyes were pleading.

"Okay, Alice, we'll add it to the agenda," Carlisle agreed.

No one indicated the slightest disagreement or irritation.

Alice smiled pleased at his response.

I squeezed his hand grateful for his easy acceptance of this, even though I would expect nothing less of my husband, and the fact that the simply exchange made it clear that Alice hadn't searched for Carlisle's answer. It was rewarding to see her respond genuinely in the moment.

"How about you, Jasper? How's school?" I asked.

Then it was his turn to be in the spotlight while he explained his studies. They were general education classes, but for the first time he seemed to be truly enjoying college.

When he was drawing to a close I asked, "Jasper, maybe I'm wrong here, but it seems from your telling, at least, that you're enjoying college more than ever before."

He looked bashful as he admitted, "Yeah, I am."

"Care to say why?" I questioned in a tone intended to give him the space to decline.

Everyone looked like they were as interested in the answer as I was. It took him some time, but eventually he looked at all of us and stated clearly, "Bella."

We all, except Alice, looked confused.

"Bella?" Carlisle asked softly with a perplexed and uncertain tone.

"Yeah." He looked around. He looked uncomfortable, which was a rarity for Jasper. "See, I can't help seeing the material through her eyes. It has changed things."

Alice's, Rosalie's, and Emmett's heads nodded in agreement. It seemed like they were sharing a similar experience, but in their own ways.

"It's not just a waste of time. It has given the information meaning," Jasper explained further.

"Me too," Emmett grumbled.

Jasper seemed appreciative that Emmett had saved him from having to say more.

"Everywhere we went I thought about what it would look like from Bella's eyes and how she would respond," Emmett continued. "It changed things. It has been the best trip we've ever taken." He turned to Rosalie. "Hasn't it babe?"

She looked at their interwoven hands. "Yeah, it has."

Alice added nothing and then began to look uncomfortable. "What about you guys? What have you been up to?" she asked Carlisle and I her impatience clear.

We looked at each other.

"The suspense is irritating. Just spill it," demanded Emmett.

"We mostly talked," Carlisle answered evasively.

"Oh, come on, old man, you have to give us more than that," Emmett bellowed.

Carlisle looked at me.

I shrugged in response to his unspoken question.

"We were going to wait till the family meeting," Carlisle explained gauging their reactions.

"On the first?" Rosalie asked confirming.

Carlisle nodded. "We'll go through the financial matters, cover story elements, all the regular stuff. We added Alice's request. And then we were going to tell you about things between Esme and I."

Each of them looked at each other trying to get a handle on what they wanted to say as a group. Quickly it became clear that they were used to Edward reading their minds and then informing us of their tally.

"Talk it out," I offered them. "We'll sit here like a fly on the wall till you guys figure it out. We have time."

They all looked a little hesitant about my suggestion, but as no one had any other ideas they decided to try. We really did rely on Edward a lot. I could only hope that in exchange for the heartache his absence brought that it would also bring its own lessons and rewards.

Watching them attempt to come to an agreement was fascinating, actually. It was common in our house for two or even three of them to discuss or argue about something, but all four of them wasn't something I had often seen. I watched Alice especially. Each time she stilled I would glare until she turned to me while I shook my head no. She would drop her head in resignation and try to get her point across without using her gift.

Rosalie wanted to hear it as soon as possible. She didn't want to wait anymore.

If I had to guess, I would have said that she was scared and nervous, despite my reassurances and she wanted it out of the way.

Emmett figured we had good reasons for wanting to wait, so he trusted our judgement. He would find out eventually seemed to be his reasoning.

Alice was worse than Rosalie about her haste, only because she wasn't used to waiting and it was bothering her.

Jasper was undecided. If he went with Emmett and since there was no Edward, a tie would mean they would defer to our opinion. If he went with the girls, then they would request to have it told to them today.

If I had to guess, I would say that he wasn't bothered about waiting or not, but Alice's present emotional state would vex him.

They debated having time as couples sooner verses later in their cabins. They discussed how long Alice had booked the cabins for. Their guesses at what we wanted to talk about were Edward, Bella, or moving again or some combination of those. They discussed the pros and cons of waiting as individuals, as couples, and to our family. Without Edward's huffing and pushing them they each articulated their needs and with a bit of struggling found a way to hear one another. Rosalie got irritated at one point, but calmed down quickly and never once did I feel Jasper's influence.

After six hours of discussion the girls had persuaded Jasper to side with them. Honestly Emmett wasn't too put out. After they informed us of their choice, Carlisle and I looked at each other uncertain. We were planning on talking with one another which parts we wanted to keep between us and which parts we wanted to share.

I turned to the four of them and asked genuinely, "Was it helpful to talk things through like that?"

"Yeah," they all agreed even if it was uncomfortable for them to admit to.

"Do you feel like you understand each other better?"

"Yeah," they all agreed once more with greater hesitation this time.

Carlisle smiled knowingly.

"Do you feel like you see each other's point of view a little more clearly?"

There were grumbles of agreement.

I smiled warmly at all of them. "That's what Carlisle and I would like to do before we share what has happened between us." I looked at him for support.

"But since you all have decided that you don't want to wait till the first, how about we compromise. It is now the twenty-sixth. Let's reassemble on the twenty-eighth after sunrise and talk then?" Carlisle offered.

They all looked at each other. The girls wanted to say no, but obviously my questions had impacted them.

"All right," they griped while both boys smiled at me. Jasper winked at us and sent an emotion like being impressed but with subtle tones of mirth or appreciation; I wasn't sure.

I smiled back at him and mouthed, "Thanks."

He nodded at me and grabbed Alice's hand. "Come on, June bug, we have a cabin to find."

Emmett grinned mischievously and picked up Rosalie bridal style.

"See you in two days," he yelled as he ran out the door.

"I think that boy had something other than us on his mind," Carlisle chuckled.

"I dare say you're right about that." I grinned.

"Nice move, love."

"You're not bad yourself. Even Jasper was impressed." I giggled.

"We're a much more dangerous team than them, my darling," Carlisle whispered into my ear.

"And why is that?" I asked taking the bait.

"Because they underestimate us every time."

"Too true," I answered just as quietly.

We both grinned as we listened to Alice and Jasper collect their things. Shortly afterwards they left as well and we had the place to ourselves.

I kissed him strongly.

"We really should talk," he uttered between kisses.

"Later," I promised.

"We might miss out on later. You distract me."

I grinned widely. "Well, then, I'll have to make sure I don't distract you too much."

"Come here, wife," was the last thing he said before he succumbed.

We spent little time talking. There was so much that needed to be said, so much for us to work through, and we both knew it, but somehow words seemed less pressing than restoring other things. My two stories had changed things between us. I counted that as positive, but they had clearly made us both nervous, as we greedily clung to one another. We needed time to rediscover who we were as individuals and as a couple. Carlisle and I seemed to agree that although more conversations were needed, for the moment silence and assuring the other was more important. Nevertheless, we did find a small window of time to agree on what we wished to share and what we wished to remain private, but as those words did not carry the implications of what was still left unsaid, they were easily resolved. When the time for their return neared, preparing ourselves for what was coming next, I was filled with reluctance but also anticipation.

Alice and Jasper arrived just moments after Rosalie and Emmett at the time we had all agreed.

Looking at Alice across the yard she, at least, had the decency to look down scolded. When she came to hug me, she added, "I'm trying."

"I know," I murmured into her ear back.

I understood that it was a struggle for her to change how she relied on her gift. Each of us were in the process of adjusting to the reverberations of us leaving Forks.

It didn't take long before Rosalie interjected Alice and my greetings with, "So, are we going to do this or not?" her frown and impatience apparent.

We all looked at her surprised by her rudeness. Although she was often forthright, she usually spoke more like the lady that she had been raised to be.

Emmett looked slightly embarrassed on her behalf.

"Yes, Rosalie, we are," Carlisle reassured her softly unaffected by her attitude. "We promised that we would. You can rest in that."

"Don't worry, Rose," I added.

She looked at me poignantly, but then her gaze softened.

"Sorry, I'm just worried," she explained faintly. Then looking at us both briefly she appeared very much like the young woman of her era as she told us, "I sincerely apologise for my insolence. I will be patient."

Smiling knowingly at her and then looking around I concluded, "I bet everyone else is just as interested in what we have to say."

Each of them seemed to agree with my assessment, although the boys were trying to look nonchalant.

"Come here and greet us properly," I chastised her lightly.

"Sorry, Mom," she murmured into my ear her regret clear.

Although Alice's and Rosalie's struggles with change were very different, it seemed as if Rosalie was resisting the process more. Despite the years, the lingering effects of how her human life had ended remained. She, more than any of my children, was fearful of the unknown. Her naivety and arrogance had led to her death, and, I suspected, that the consequences of that night hounded her still.

After greeting Jasper and Emmett, Carlisle took my hand moving us to the sitting area. As we travelled, they followed. Each of the couples returned to the couches that we had occupied over Christmas.

Sitting down I settled in next to Carlisle leaning into his right shoulder while he had his arm around me.

All four of them had some degree of nervousness, and they were all trying to hide it, although I wasn't sure about Jasper. He seemed to have a calmness that perhaps came from him knowing the sentimental changes that had occurred with Carlisle and I, but then again he nearly always looked calm. It had taken me decades to learn his tells, as they were very subtle, and even then I often was uncertain on how he was responding to certain things.

"Before we begin, we decided that it is important to let you know that we have made no decisions," Carlisle explained with a tone that left little room for debate. "We, well, Esme really, is going to share what she imagined during those two days in Ithaca, and then, based on how opinions shake out after that, we are, as a family, going to decide what to do next." They each looked at each other and then us in varying degrees of increased nervousness.

"All right, then, carry on," Emmett joked.

I smiled looking at Carlisle for courage. Telling him was one thing, telling them all was something else. "As you know I didn't agree with us leaving Forks and since the move I have been withdrawn," I started with.

Their heads gave an acknowledgement of agreement while Carlisle drew me into himself tighter comforting me.

"What you might not know is that the way you saw me in Ithaca was much how I was for months after Edward had left us and some in my first year. I didn't really leave whatever perch I was in except to hunt. It was a difficult time on all of us." I paused working through the memories my statement had brought up.

"You were still?" Jasper asked astonished interrupting looking as if he had been trying not too, but merely could not contain himself any longer.

I looked at Carlisle for verification.

"Yes," he confirmed looking incredibly sad. "Edward was with us and as a newborn she wasn't a handful, opposite, actually. She would, just as she said, find a window still and sit in it lost in her thoughts until one of us would arise her reminding her that she needed to feed. In the beginning it could be quite difficult to bring her out of her thoughts, but we were persistent, as we didn't want her to slip. The more withdrawn she was the more coaxing it took. Often Edward was forced to use what he saw in her mind to help draw her out. It was hard on all three of us, but he took much of the brunt. It didn't take too long for her to stop doing that, but she took it up again after Edward left. For months she was like that. Eventually, it grew to be more and more rare. I haven't known her to do that since Edward had returned."

Jasper shook his head scowling looking lost.

"What Jasper?" Carlisle inquired.

Jasper took some time pondering.

We all sat in our mate's arms waiting for him.

Eventually he spoke telling us, "In all my years I have never seen a newborn act like that. Ever. I don't know what to make of it." He shook his head despondently.

Carlisle looked down at me unsure of how much I wanted to share.

"I was very sad," I explained as to take the burden off Carlisle. "I missed my little boy and, although having Carlisle was wonderful, I could get lost in my thoughts and lose track of the world around me. After a few months when everything wasn't so overwhelming I began to realize how much Edward was suffering from these imaginings and I began to make a real effort to distract myself in other ways. I cleaned the house and laundered clothes. Carlisle bought me books and paints; I read and learned to draw. After a while, I stopped sitting on window stills and losing myself to my thoughts. I have not done it since Edward returned, not once, until a few weeks ago."

"What did you think about?" Rosalie asked tentatively, but then stopped herself. "Never mind it's fine."

"It's okay Rosalie," I reassured her smiling gently at her.

She smiled back hesitantly.

"I imagined what ifs. Often I imagined how things would have been if my son had lived and the life he would have led, and on occasion I would get lost in my human memories that I didn't want to remember. Those imagined futures are kind of like what I do when I paint. In my painting I try to capture not just the thing, but the essence of it, the je ne sais quoi."

Everyone bar Carlisle had a confused expression. He instead was smiling slightly proudly.

"Um …" I thought trying to find something they would understand. "Let me try to explain it this way. You know how Alice has visions based on decisions."

They all nodded with varying degrees of yes of course we know this.

"Right, then, so I don't try to capture the decision, I try to capture the motivation, for lack of a better term. I try to look at the heart, the core of the thing, and then express the 'what if', assuming in my mind's eye that it had allowed itself to be in its best form. The paint on a canvas is my poor attempt to put onto paper that fullness. When I would get lost in my thoughts I would do something similar, but often tweak it so it matched what I believed would be the best path."

Rosalie's and Alice's eyes were huge. Emmett looked confused and Jasper contemplative.

Looking at Jasper, he caught my eye and I tried to convey to him through my words, but also through my feelings what I meant. "During those first months I dealt with feeling overwhelmed by this kind of imagining," I continued explaining, "but with all kind of scenarios. As my human memories of my husband were fairly brutal and sad, my imaginings of Charles varied from slight alterations to greater ones. My reconstructions that only created slight shifts were hard for Edward, as I had forbidden him from harming Charles." I sighed deeply knowing that he had broken his promise. "They were also hard on Carlisle, but mostly because he could see Edward and I were hurting and he didn't know how to be of assistance."

I had confessed to Carlisle, when we had come up for a breather, my old but still harboured fear that it was these images that had driven Edward to hunt humans, and my shame that I had not moved passed this fear like I had thought. As I had whimpered and rocked back and forth, Carlisle had held me and rocked with me reassuring me, as he had times before, that Edward's choices were not my responsibility, and, like after Edward had returned, that perhaps my past had given him the idea to hunt criminal men, which was a small grace as these things go.

After I had calmed down enough for his words to fully penetrate, I couldn't help but kiss this gentle soul who seemed to always see the good and the best possibility in others. He had simply been too selfless to see that I had been brought into his life for a reason, and accepting me would have been permissible. I had always known that deep inside, but somehow with the air clear between us it felt truer. Once more he had offered me the chance to forgive myself for what I had inadvertently inflicted on Edward and let go of the doubt. So I had kissed him and I had accepted the gift his words had brought me. We hadn't come up for many more hours.

I brought my focus back to my family. "So, for Edward's sake, but also Carlisle's I painted instead. That seemed to help them both, but especially Edward. Perhaps it was because of the material, since I only wanted to paint things I thought were beautiful. Then I found that I enjoyed doing that process to our homes more than a canvas." I smiled shyly.

"In between feedings you would be still, as you were in Ithaca, immersed in your thoughts?" Jasper asked incredulous.

"Yes," Carlisle confirmed.

"How often did she need to hunt?" he pressed.

"Once a day for about a month, but then every other day and it tapered off. Rosalie was about the same in terms of feeding."

Jasper was shaking his head again. His lips were moving but no sound was coming out.

Alice put her hand on his shoulder.

He looked over to me. "Were you thirsty between feeds?" His eyes were forlorn begging for an answer.

I thought back to those years reluctantly.

Carlisle wrapped his arms around me even tighter in comfort.

"No," I concluded. "In fact, I would forget that I needed to feed while I sat imagining until Edward or Carlisle would remind me," I replied in summary of my memories. "It was part of my failings. I would forget their warnings that humans were delicious."

His mouth fell open. " _You would forget your need to feed?"_ He sounded nearly frantic.

Looking up at Carlisle, I was unsure at how to calm Jasper. "Yes?" I told him gently.

"Jasper," Carlisle said in his most soothing tone. "Everyone's experience of coming into this life is different, ours especially so, due to my diet preference and each individual's physical state and condition when I bit them." He cringed slightly at the last four words. I doubted Jasper would pick up the twitch, but he would pick up on Carlisle's emotional state. "Edward's, Esme's, Rosalie's, as well as Emmett's were each unique. None were the same. Emmett was quite similar to the stories of newborns you've told. He was very difficult to control and thirsty frequently. The first five days we never left the park."

Jasper nodded his face contemplative.

"I've always believed Esme's loss of her son greatly impacted those early years. She came into this life and was as she described to you. I believe that she suffered from a sort of postpartum depression while human, and her imaginings were her way of healing herself in this life. She did then, after a few short months turn to painting, and after a few years architecture. She has always brought the same spirit to all that she turns her hand to."

"You do that with us," Jasper noted quietly almost to himself. "You often have this incredible ability to see to the heart of things and bring out the best in others."

Smiling broadly at him I said kindly, "That might be one of the sweetest compliments you have ever paid me, Jasper."

He looked up at me and smiled hesitantly. "You're welcome, Esme." Then his tone turned serious and his drawl apparent, "Nonetheless, Carlisle, to forget to feed, to forget warnings about human blood, to get lost in thought, if I had not seen Esme myself, I would call your bluff. What you are describing is impossible. Vampires don't get lost in thought to the point that they forget to _feed_."

Carlisle simply watched Jasper allowing him to work through his thoughts.

Jasper looked at Carlisle piercingly part defiant and part pleading. "Thousands Carlisle, I have dealt with thousands of newborns and not one acted anything remotely close to what you are describing."

"Perhaps you forget, Jasper," Carlisle told him gently, "that when they woke to this life I had removed human scent from the space as much is permissible. They woke to me speaking calmly and then us hunting an animal. I believe Maria's tactics, by your own description, of having a bleeding human immediately available and other humans closely at hand for the newborn were in part to ensure and to heighten bloodlust in order to maintain dependency. My intentions, from the beginning, were opposite. I wished to decrease bloodlust and help each of them retain their truest self in however I could."

Jasper nodded curtly. It was a conversation they had hashed out more than once. After a while Jasper spoke again, "Even though I saw for myself Esme statuesque on the window still. And I felt her emotions just as crisply as always, but vacillating as if she were having a reaction to something imaginary. And Alice assured me that she had seen Esme in visions in that state and then coming out of it. Still, despite all of that, and knowing you believe yourself truthful, I'm still struggling to accept what you are saying.

"Honestly, I was struggling with this when Esme was lost in herself those weeks ago and I couldn't bring her out. Truly, it reminded me a little of when we were in Phoenix and monitoring Bella sleeping, which should be impossible for us. I cannot reconcile what I observed with my own eyes and felt with my own gift. It simply goes again the fundamental elements of our nature. Now you're telling me that not only did she do this in the past, but also that it so consumed her that she forgot that she had thirst. That just shouldn't be possible. Newborns cannot forget their thirst; they are ruled by it. It consumes them and everything in their path if left unchecked." Then he quieted once more.

His features shifted into the one he gets when he is strategising as if what he had just uttered held the answer to what he had been searching for. When he looked back at me he squinted his eyes. "I was thinking," he stated and then stopped speaking. He looked at me, and his expression shifted as if to ask permission to continue. Nodding my assent, he carried on, "See, I was thinking that perhaps it's more than just your personality or way of loving." He watched me carefully.

I smiled bashfully.

"Like a gift?" Rosalie asked indignantly.

Jasper shook his head. "Not really. It's too subtle," he petered off, then added unexpectedly, "still."

Carlisle beamed. My perpetual scientist had already asked me a bazillion questions and drawn his own conclusions.

Jasper voicing these thoughts instead of Edward felt unusual, but not uncomfortable. It was the simple fact that it had always been Edward to lead these conversations in the past.

Jasper looked at Carlisle. "Do you think Edward's mindreading stopped it from developing?"

I swear Carlisle's grin broadened so that his cheeks were in his ears.

"What?" Alice squealed.

"Could someone fill me in?" Emmett asked he looked even more confused than Alice, poor thing.

"Jasper's wondering if Esme had a latent gift that manifested in her newborn years, but because of Edward being bothered by it that it got redirected into other activities and it was only with Edward being gone and Esme being upset again that she reverted into an old habit, which might have brought it into fruition once more," Rosalie explained nonplussed.

Emmett stared at her with his mouth hung open.

"What?" she asked back. "Did I miss something?" she directed at Jasper.

"No," he answered, while he shook his head.

"How did you follow that, babe?" Emmett asked in awe.

"I'm not just a grease monkey, you know," she griped at him.

"Oh, I know," Emmett retorted suggestively.

She swatted his arm, but smiled broadly at him.

"Can you see the future?" Alice asked hesitantly as if afraid of the answer.

"Oh, no, sweetie," I reassured her.

She looked simultaneously relieved and disappointed.

"Then what do you _see?_ " she asked absolutely enthralled.

"Well, Carlisle and I concluded that my imaginings are mostly what ifs regarding my human years."

"That's definitely not as cool as future telling or mind-reading mom, sorry," Emmett teased.

"Certainly not," I told him sweetly back smiling.

Jasper looked at Carlisle accusingly, "You suspected?"

He frowned and pondered before responding. "In the beginning I did, some. Aro never once indicated in our conversations about vampire nature that such a thing was possible. Thus, as you said, it seemed unnatural. But she stopped before too long, so I let it go believing that it was simply a reflection of her working out her son's death and her choice to leap from that cliff, and nothing came of it until recently. Honestly, I haven't thought about her getting lost in her thoughts since Edward's return. Those years were rough on us and I choose not to dwell on many things from that time, for Edward's sake as much as my own. But since Esme shared what she experienced those two days, I have gone back over those early years and wondered if I missed something."

"You think you did?" Jasper questioned.

"The evidence seems to indicate that I did," Carlisle admitted.

"You have reached no conclusions?" Jasper pressed.

"No, I only have hypotheses," Carlisle replied.

"So you–" Alice began before Carlisle put his hands up.

"I understand your questions. Truly, I do, but I think much will be answered if you experience it for yourself. Esme has agreed to tell you what she imagined a few weeks ago. It's actually about me."

They all looked at him dubiously.

His face fell. "So before she begins, I feel the need to tell you all how sorry I am. I was a fool, and you will see my failings in what Esme will share. I have failed you all, but most of all I failed Esme. She has forgiven me, and I hope one day you'll find it in your hearts to do the same."

"There was nothing to forgive," I told him. "I thought I had already explained that."

"Won't stop me from trying to make amends." He smiled and both hands grasped me firmly around my waist.

"It seems that whatever Esme saw irrevocably and profoundly changed her as well as you, Carlisle." Jasper paused before continuing, "Most individuals are relatively steady in their emotional temperament, and both of yours have been altered. Not in the quality of the emotion, but in the degrees," Jasper told us in a somewhat detached tone.

Carlisle thought about it. "Yes, I suppose that's true. I noticed a change in Esme the first time we spoke upon returning from the hospital and had found her present once more. What she saw changed her and when she told it to me it changed me."

"Unbelievable," Rosalie muttered to herself.

Alice now looked like she was suspicious of what was going to come next.

Jasper looked intrigued.

Emmett looked bored.

"I am warning you. Last time it took her over four days to share it all. If you want to hear it, then I expect you to sit through the whole thing." Carlisle looked at each of them sternly. Only Emmett looked uncertain if he wanted to stay, but one look at Rosalie and he stayed put. "Try to be still as to not disrupt her story-telling," Carlisle instructed.

Feeling bashful again I tried to object. "Really, Carlisle, you don't need–"

"Yes I do," he insisted interrupting me. "I want them to get the full effect so they can understand completely."

I nodded in consent understanding why he was being so insistent about this even if it embarrassed me a little.

"Ready?" I asked my family.

They all had expressions of different degrees of curiousness and nervousness, but nonetheless replied in the affirmative.

"So, when I was sixteen Carlisle was working …" and then I told it exactly as I had told Carlisle leaving nothing unsaid.

When I came out of my story-telling space all of my children were frozen in a kind of stupor. Looking up at Carlisle, I wondered if that was how I had appeared when I had been lost in my imagination. He looked down at me and shrugged as if to say, "I sure don't know."

Nodding back I agreed in the wisdom to just wait.

A little over six hours later Alice looked at us. "Wow," she whispered. She looked around.

I put my index finger to my mouth.

She nodded and nestled herself into Jasper.

Within the hour Jasper stirred. "Chickety," he muttered. He looked around and his mouth opened when he saw Emmett and Rosalie.

I repeated the motion to him that I had given to Alice.

He nodded and covered Alice with his arms.

Shortly after Rosalie stirred.

She looked at me jaw open.

I put my index to my mouth once more.

She nodded grimly and sat up stiffly.

Another two hours later Emmett stirred. "Bloody hell, what in tarnation was that?"

"Indeed, Esme? Carlisle? _What_ was that?" Rosalie asked bewildered.

"That was what I imagined during those two days," I replied simply.

"It was like an alternative universe," Alice said in awe. "It was like having one of my fuzzy visions that I usually dismiss play out to see what would happen."

I nodded in agreement.

"What _was_ that, Esme?" Jasper asked earnestly.

"We don't know, really," Carlisle replied. "Like I said, I have no conclusions. I can tell you that it helped me see, with Esme's encouragement, flaws in my belief system and weaknesses in my personality. When she told it to me, it was as if that alternative became our lived experience. Even though it's not what truly transpired, it feels like it did within me. I have had a much a similar response when I see one of Esme's paintings. Suddenly I don't see what the original object was that caught her eye. Instead, I see what she drew, the potential, and the possibility. From then on what she drew is how I see the object as if the original ceased to be. The same happened with this alternative universe, as you called it Alice, except that it was much more forceful, impacting, and deep reaching than any painting."

"I'll say," Emmett stated with a disbelieving tone and then whistled.

"So, it's not really a gift like Edward's or Alice's or Jasper's, but it has given both Esme and I something and it healed us," Carlisle concluded.

"It healed me," Rosalie muttered.

We all turned towards her waiting for her to explain.

She took a long time before she spoke and there were many times when the set of her jaw and the thin line of her lips implied that she wasn't going to explain. When she did finally speak she had a tone I had never heard from her prior. It somehow held a type of vulnerability that I would have previously said was impossible for her to reveal. "I don't know if I can even explain it right," she complained obviously uncomfortable. "I was there with you, Carlisle, living your life, seeing how monotonous and lonely your days were. It was depressing." One look at Carlisle and she added, "I found it dreary. And you meet this women who turned your head, but she's young, human and has responsibilities.

"You want to do the _right_ thing, but both your choices weren't great. The rational choice, which was what brought you to today, turned out pretty horrible for Esme, but you couldn't have known that. The other choice turned out slightly better for Esme, but worse for you. From Esme's story, instead of just moving on, she was in your life but at a distance. And the worst part was that in this alternative the key parts of her life still happen. It's almost as if, no matter which one you would have chosen, you couldn't have saved her from her, fate, for a better word. The only major difference was that in the end of Esme's story she got to choose this life, where in reality you made that choice on her behalf."

She shook her head. "Honestly, the worst part for me is that I'm trying to imagine how our meeting in the street might have gone if you had made that second choice. Would you have still changed me? It would seem perhaps yes, but maybe it would have happened in a different way and I wouldn't have been so bitter. Then again, it might have altered nothing about that night."

She shook her head again. "By changing how I see you, in how I see the choices you made, the cost you paid, what Esme's life would have been like if you'd chosen differently, I can't help but see your choices, Esme's choices, and by extension, my choices differently. I also can't help but think of how Edward might be different. Everything might have been different, not in a big way, but still. I can't help but wonder." Her words puttered off and she looked contemplative.

We sat in silence for a long time before someone spoke again.

"You're story moved me as well Esme," Jasper admitted in soft tones his drawl growing with each word. "My experience of this life for so many years was so brutal and so ingrained that even Carlisle changing humans that were dying sounded strange, but knowing Carlisle I could understand how he would be unable to bite a healthy human. However, your story is something else entirely.

"It changes the relationship between vampire and human from predator and prey into simply two creatures living out their years. Certainly, much of that is due to Carlisle, but still. I can't get out of my mind that perhaps, given the chance, there is a third way–the way you envisioned–a way where both love and risk. There is no stronger and weaker, one taking and forcing the other." He looked up at us abashed at his candidness. "I'm sorry." He looked at me apologetically. "It was very moving."

"Thank you, Jasper," I told him simply hoping that he could feel my appreciation at his words, even if he hadn't meant to be so open. "There is no reason to apologise."

"I can't get over how different Eddie was in that version," Emmett sputtered in disbelief.

"He was much like that after his newborn years and before he left," Carlisle admitted. We all watched him while he reflected. "Although, I'd say that the way Esme died and Edward not having a say in me turning her might have contributed to his morose mood after Esme was changed. Perhaps if it went the way of the alternative he wouldn't have sulked quite so much, although I'm certain he still would have left eventually. It was something he needed to do," Carlisle concluded.

"What happened to the guilt?" Jasper asked shocked.

Carlisle looked at him seriously. "Not like it was, Jasper. Like I said, Esme's imagining altered how I saw myself and my past choices. While we spent time talking about the implications of her story, I began to see the flaws in how I have handled things at times, but it also helped me see that some events were out of my control and that no matter how much I might have altered my approach they were meant to happen."

"I've always seen my visions that way," Alice interjected. She looked at Jasper who nodded slightly. "Jasper and I have disagreed about them at times. I've always believed some visions were immutable in a way, fated, like Rosalie said. Me meeting Jasper being an example, becoming a Cullen is another. Jazz has said that although they seem certain, nothing really is, that the fated sense of them is more like saying this will likely happen unless lots of things make it change.

"The future, when I seek it out, I always have thought of as moving targets, something that I have tried to adjust in little ways to make life smoother. Jazz thinks that I do that too much some times, that my love for others and 'fixing' the small things stops them from learning the lessons they're meant to. Looking at what Esme shared: her husband went off to war. Given her age and when she married, most husbands went off to war and most came back disturbed in some way. Given the events in history at the time, there wasn't much of a chance that her husband, no matter who he was, wouldn't have gone off to war. But there was _a_ chance, no matter how small. That chance was you, Carlisle. You could have be honest and changed her many years prior." Then she frowned. "But then that would have changed … Humph."

"No meddling, darlin'," Jasper offered his wife his accent thick.

"Don't you see, though, Alice, those things made me who I am today? Yes, I could have married Carlisle earlier, but then how might that have changed Edward's fate, or even mine. I would have been changed at a younger mindset. My favourite is actually the alternative I imagined. I kept all the events that shaped me, but in the end I got to choose this life. I think that would have made a real difference, especially in the early years. In the long run it all evens out, I figure."

Rosalie stared at me unsure of my words. She looked as if she was having an internal argument.

"You couldn't have saved me from my battles, darling," Jasper crooned at his wife. "I needed them to become who I am today. Just as Esme needed hers."

"I just hated seeing you in such pain and coming so close to death," Alice voiced distressed.

"I know, June bug, but I didn't, and the lessons I took away are immeasurable."

We all gave them the time they needed each couple snuggling into each other.

Into Jasper's shirt Alice spoke, "Your story changed everything Esme, not just how I see my gift and the disagreement that Jasper and I have between us about the irrefutability of future events, but also how I see my own past and my relationship with Bella. I can't help but wonder if the vampire who changed me valued human life but saw, or perhaps I saw, that I was meant for this life. That might mean that James or not I was destined to be a Cullen and to be with Jasper. I've always liked to believe that was the case, but somehow now that idea feels more sturdy that when I was a young vampire holding onto hope in these smallest of ways.

"The assurance your story gave me changed something within me. And with that I can't help but wonder if I, without intending to, treated Bella like a pet. I really just wanted for us to do things together and have fun together. I just wanted to celebrate her being on earth for one more year. And she insisted over and over not to make a fuss, but I did. And because I didn't listen to her, because I insisted on doing things my way she got cut, Jasper tried to take a sample of her, and we moved. Maybe if I had just listened to her more …"

Alice began heaving with the strength of her sorrow. Jasper held her tight with one hand, rubbed her back with the other, and too quietly to hear whispered words meant to comfort her.

Just before it would have been appropriate to start the conversation again Emmett interjected. "This has to do with Bella and Edward, doesn't it?"

We all stared at him. Emmett had, through the years, moments were he took what others family members made complicated and presented them straightforward and simply.

"Well," he started sounding a bit on the defensive, "Eddie convinced the family here to leave Bella behind. We went along with his plan that seemed like a good idea at the time, but then he ran off and we're all unhappy. That meeting is the first time ever in the history of being a Cullen that I saw you and Carlisle disagree on a vote. No offense, but it's bothersome you two not agreeing. I listened to your story and I can't help but see Bella. Sure, lots of details are different, but it's the same basic: vampire meets human, is attracted to human, won't change human, leaves human to be a human, and in the end she becomes a vampire anyway. Alice sees it. She says Bella becoming one of us hasn't changed." He eyed Alice challengingly.

Her eyes glaze over. "Nope still there," she insisted when she came to, although she didn't look quite as certain as she had in the past.

"So let's go get baby-sis, and Eddie-boy can throw a tantrum the size of Alaska later, but at least she'd have us there to help her out, protect her, and make sure messed-up stuff doesn't happen to her." Then he crossed his arms over each other and huffed.

We all stared at him including Rosalie.

"Um, Emmett, no offense, but I thought you voted to move," Alice prodded gently.

I watch as the edges of Carlisle's mouth went up.

Emmett looks down at the ground. "Yeah, well, I was wrong. I thought as much as the twerp had done for me over the years for my slips I owed him. I hate to admit it, but I wasn't really thinking about Bella at the time, even though I like her, as humans go. But after listening to your story, Esme, I'm seeing things different. I was human when Rosalie found me, sure dying and everything, but still.

"I know us Cullens have an unusual thing about killing humans and turning healthy ones. Sure, we respect human life and I get it. I agree that they're worth not murdering just because I can, even though nothing but their blood eases the burn quite the same. But after hearing Esme's story it seems like we're seeing humanity too black and white, that we're making it out like a human existence is preferable to ours and maybe that is inaccurate. What if Jasper's right? What if there's a third way–that both vampire and human are meant to coexist and on a rare occasion a human crosses our path and is meant to be changed. Then our responsibility would be to figure out from the plethora of people we come across when someone isn't meant to be human. Certainly seems like Esme fit that bill, and Bella does too.

"On top of that, I think Eddie sold us what we wanted to hear or needed to hear to convince us to do what he wanted. He totally knows how we think. He's really good at that. So, for the first time since the vote I'm not seeing Eddie's perspective or the words he used to convince me. I'm seeing this from a difference vantage point. And if we messed up, then we should fix it." He crossed his arms and his whole body was set as if waiting for someone to disagree, so that he could show them the error or their ways.

Carlisle and I eyed one another.

"What about you, Rosalie?" Alice asked tentatively.

"I still think she was choosing wrong to want this life, but I can see her side a little, assuming she's like the version of Esme in the story." She lowed her voice so I almost couldn't hear her, "What if some things are just meant to be no matter what?" After a short minute, she looked back at Alice. "Is she choosing immortality or is she choosing _him_?"

Alice sat for a few minutes. "Truthfully, Rosalie, I don't know the inner workings of her mind. So, I can't say for sure, but every time I've seen her talk to Edward she only said that she wants to be with him forever."

Rosalie looked at Alice surprised at the gentleness of the response. "Thanks, Alice. I appreciate it."

Alice nodded.

The silence seemed to envelope us and still us. Each of us couples found comfort in the arms of our beloveds while the wind blew and the snow fell.

Emmett broke it. "So, are we talking some more or playing in the snow."

"Let's take a break," Carlisle suggested.

They all must have agreed to join in because they started bickering about teams. "You playing?" Emmett asked us.

"Yes," Carlisle and I said together.

"In that case, Jasper, Rosalie, and Carlisle verse me, Esme, and Alice," Emmett commanded.

"Fine," Rosalie grumbled. "We're going to crush your sorry behinds. And no cheating, Alice!"

"I'll try," Alice grumbled under her breath, but as she was near me I heard her, hopefully Rosalie hadn't.

We agreed on four hours to build forts, walls, and tunnels (that couldn't go past the half-way area).

As we went outside to create what would be a fun family game, I couldn't help reflect on all that had happened. The vote to leave Bella in Forks had been the most contentious discussion our family had ever experienced. Despite the outcome, I could have allowed my hesitations to keep me from speaking my past to Carlisle once more. Instead my imagining had transformed me, Carlisle had allowed it to alter him, and our children, bar Edward, had also been affected. In retrospect I had been wrong to not tell Carlisle how much he had touched my heart when I was sixteen. That mistake had cost us, as a couple, more than I could count, our family an unimaginable amount, and dear Bella greater than could ever be repaid.

Even though I could see with hindsight my errors, it didn't change the reality of the situation. Bella has still been left behind. My heart wanted to rush back and wrap her in my arms, but I could not act alone. It would need to be a family decision. It was how we as Cullens did things. Although it was clear that my imagining had impacted us, what wasn't apparent was how those effects might influence our futures. There were decisions to be made. Certainly, the things shared and ensuing conversations over the past month would have a bearing in the decisions we would soon make individually and collectively for our futures. Even Alice couldn't know the long-term repercussions.

No matter what the future held, what was important was that we learned the lessons being given to us. Learn, grow, and change was especially hard as vampires, but if anyone could achieve such things, it would be our family. I held the belief that even though there was likely to be rough waters ahead as we worked through the restorative process, Carlisle and I would come out of this storm stronger than ever, and together our family would emerge more united than it had ever been. One thing was for certain: these past months had changed us all and we were all living with a little more heart.

* * *

 _A/N: I know hard to believe, but this is actually the last chapter of the story, although there will be an epilogue posted next Thursday. The epilogue opens the possibility for a sequel, which I've drafted, and is set from January 2006-December 2006._

 _I can't thank you enough for sharing with me your thoughts about this story._


	10. Epilogue

Beta: The incredible and amazing _kiwihipp_

(Updated 29 Nov)

* * *

 **Epilogue**

* * *

Due to my telling of what I had imagined and then the snowball fight, we each took our spots at the table for our annual first of the year table conference on the third of January.

Alice started us off covering all the details regarding our money management, investments, charity accounts, foundations, and other aspects of where the Cullen money had gone in the past year. It was hard to not have Edward there to add to that part of the discussion as usually they worked in concert. A few times Alice had paused, which was unlike her. I suspected that in those moments she had spoken what Edward would have otherwise said. It made me miss him in a way that I hadn't since arriving in Newfoundland.

Then Jasper informed us about our digital identities and where we stood with that as well as our paper trail identities.

Rosalie talked about the cars, their present condition, and any recommendations she had for the next year.

Emmett passed, as did I.

Carlisle mentioned Alice's request.

She talked about the relatives that she had found along with her desire to help them with their housing and educational needs. She described in detail her ideas of how to set up a foundation for schooling on their behalves. For a few hours we talked about what her relatives might need and how to give them the money without them knowing it was from us or raising suspicion generally, since it would be the first time that we helped people related to us in a manner like she was requesting. My favourite option was to have them win a prize so they could get a newer home or fix the one they live in. Emmett, as always, had some pretty wild ideas. One thing you can say about him is that he thinks outside the box.

Her request then raised a lengthily discussion about whether or not agreeing to do this meant that anyone could request something similar for their living family members, and how we might wish to do such a thing. Although some details of how to go about it were contentious, it seemed to be our overall belief that we should assist our family members if we wanted to, assuming that it was untraceable to us.

Things were winding down when Emmett piped up, his desire to have things resolved apparent, "Enough of the boring stuff, what are we going to do about Bella?"

Carlisle smiled indulgently at him, "We're getting there. Anyone have anything else?"

We all responded in the negative in one way or another.

"We would all pay a heavy price for going back in multiple ways, and it would be by far the riskiest move we would have ever made, so I refuse for us to make any decision unless we all agree," Carlisle stated without room for argument.

"Agree?" Emmett asked shocked. "No offense, Pop, we haven't _all_ agreed on anything since …" the minutes went by while Emmett sat lost in thought, finally he finished, "before I joined the family, so a long time ago if ever." He looked up at the ceiling as if it held the answers speaking slowly. "I mean, maybe one or two consent or someone doesn't really care to hold a strong opinion, but _agree._ You're asking the impossible. Especially since the last conversation about Bella nearly broke our family." He frowned and his whole countenance looked forlorn. Then he smiled slyly and turned to Carlisle, "But hey if you can get shapeshifters to agree to a treaty, maybe you can pull this off too. You are a miracle worker after all." Then he chuckled at his own joke.

Carlisle smiled knowingly. "I am aware of the challenges that condition might bring. Thank you for bringing it to our attention. You are correct that it has been a while, but I think this is too important to be done any other way. Any objections?"

"Nope, old man, none, and honestly I think you stand half a chance without Eddie-boy here. But better you than me. Good luck," Emmett joshed.

Everyone smiled slightly at Emmett's light banter, but underneath looked hesitant and uncertain. However, no one voiced a difference of opinion.

"I want to move back," Alice stated firmly before Carlisle could indicate who he wanted to go first. Putting her hands up defensively, she spoke rushed, "I know, I know, there's added risk in Forks due to the Quileutes, Edward will be furious, it will be a convoluted cover story, we'll have to move away again within the original timeframe, and we have no way to know how Bella will respond to us coming back without Edward." She slowed down looking dejected. "But I love her. She was my best friend. The only best friend I've ever had. I miss her. I vote to move back."

Jasper wrapped Alice in his arms and kissed her head.

"I go where Alice goes," was Jasper's input.

Carlisle gave him a look to suggest that wasn't going to cut it this time.

He looked back at Alice and appeared contemplative. Then he added, "Alice's assessment that there are added risks to moving back is true. However, the truth is that the climate of our home was better with Bella. I can't tell you if that was because she changed Edward and they together made it different or if was Bella herself. I can never apologise deeply enough for the disgrace I caused our family that night. I owe her an even greater apology. Nevertheless, I can see no strategic benefit in staying away. We have already ruled out that the shapeshifting gene is active in the area, Edward will get over his anger eventually, and we can manage the cover story. In part, I argued that night for us to stay, because, just as in Esme's story, now that Bella knows, even though we were not the ones to tell her, I believe us to be legally responsible for her."

Carlisle frowned ever so slightly.

He looked directly at Carlisle. "I understand the position that since the Quileutes told her, we were not legally accountable for her knowledge. Edward argued with me about that point since James' coven and he never changed my opinion. No matter who told her, she knows that we are vampires. In my opinion, that makes her our responsibility. I told _Eddie_ ," he sneered glaring at Carlisle for a moment before calming himself and returning to his clipped tone, "that numerous times mentally when he came in and asked us to move, but he didn't want to hear it.

"I have heard of the Volturi wiping out covens for less. I don't see them caring about some shapeshifters or that we have a treaty. A human has sufficient information to expose us and we have left her. That would be enough for them to decide against us. Not to mention that I believe leaving her went against what I have been led to believe it means to be a Cullen–to be meticulously responsible. I vote to move back."

His words were inspiring and moving,while also slightly intimidating. They caused me to be so proud of him. I also knew those same words would deeply touch and shame my husband. That would not be Jasper's intention, certainly, but without a doubt he would be aware of the emotions he ignited within Carlisle by his speech. I wrapped my hand around Carlisle's and held it tight trying to remind him through touch that there was nothing to forgive, thus he did not need carry any guilt for his decision to leave Forks. He made what he thought was the right decision at the time. It took him a few minutes, but I felt him relaxing again leaning over and kissing the crown of my head.

"After listening to Esme's story I have to agree with you Jasper that we are accountable for Bella," Carlisle said evenly. "Perhaps Edward was correct and we are not legally responsible. I am not Aro and do not decide those nuances."

Emmett and Rosalie glared at him, Jasper looked like he was trying to reconcile Carlisle's words with what his gift was picking up, and Alice checked the future for a second and then smiled sadly. I caught her eye and shook my head no. She lowered her gaze and frowned.

Carlisle continued as if their reactions were neutral, "What I can say, however, was that I was wrong to agree to the move solely due to Edward's convictions. I took his word that us moving was what was best for Bella. After Esme's story I have begun to wonder if perhaps he was blind to how connected Bella might have been to him, and thus, although speaking truth from his point of view, was not accurately conveying Bella's. I believed Edward to be conveying to us that Bella understood our wish for her to remain human, and that she recognised the risk our presence brought her. I wished to respect her capacity to continue her human life unaffected by our proximity. I have reviewed that conversation many times since Esme told me her story and with new eyes I am no longer certain that Edward actually said that Bella agreed with us leaving. No matter what is the truth, the bottom line is that I can now see that my past experience regarding Esme coloured what I heard during that conversation and thus my decision in a way that was not helpful. I can only ask for you all to forgive me for my failings. They have cost us a lot," Carlisle apologised humbly.

"You're not God, Carlisle," Rosalie stated tersely. "You're bound to make a mistake every century or so."

We all laughed lightly the tension that his words had brought dissipating.

"Thank you, Rosalie," Carlisle replied with a smile ghosting his features. "That's very compassionate of you."

"Yeah, well, don't count on a repeat performance for at least a hundred years or so," she griped. "You used your one."

"I'll bear that in mind," Carlisle teased back gently.

She nodded curtly and crossed her arms over her chest.

Carlisle sat in silence looking at Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice waiting to see if they had something to say in response to his apology. Emmett gently smiled at Carlisle giving him his forgiveness and understanding in the understated way that was Emmett. Jasper looked contemplative and calculating as if trying to determine what Carlisle's words might mean for our future. Alice looked at her hands fidgeting obviously uncomfortable.

When Rosalie spoke it was clear that no one wanted to address Carlisle's apology any more. "No offense, Alice," she stated as if she could no longer contain herself, "but do we even know if Bella wants us back in her life?"

"Of course she does! We are best friends!" Alice wailed looking at Rosalie like she might launch herself at Rosalie for even suggestion such a thing.

"You left," Rosalie hissed at her not at all intimidated. "Whether she agreed with us leaving or not, she might not _want_ to be your friend anymore," she stated coarsely.

If I didn't know Rosalie so well I would almost say that she was taunting Alice, but I knew that wasn't the case. As much as Alice might not want to hear it, unfortunately, Rosalie was speaking truth. We really didn't know if Bella had any interest in our family anymore. The thought was gripping. I might have lost her before I really had her.

For reasons unknown the weight of the sorrow felt slightly lighter and I looked towards Jasper.

He appeared bashful like he wasn't sure if he had done the right thing.

I nodded my head in thanks and smiled slightly.

In the meant time Alice had balked, her anger disappearing instantly. She put her hands to her eyes and started shaking.

"Shush, now, June bug," I could hear Jasper mutter to Alice before his words grew too quiet as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and nuzzled her.

"We all left and she stayed," Rosalie continued her tone softer and gentler. "I tried to warn you Alice and Edward too. But neither of you would listen. No one deserves to be played with. First she's invited into our home, then she's there a lot, then we leave, and now what? Just because we decide that we might have made a mistake she'll rush towards us with open arms? She might be human, but she's not some toy or pet." Rosalie's voice cracked.

Emmett moved his hand to her thigh.

"Human or not, she's a sentient being who deserved to be treated as something other than an object. Edward worshipped her like she was an idol, or overrode her as if she was the entombment of the fragile delicate prone-to-hysteria bushwa that men believed back when he was turned. I've never hidden the fact that I thought allowing Edward to spend time with her was by far the most ridiculous dangerous horsefeathers," she paused, took at deep breath, and smiled grimly at Jasper. "I didn't like how he treated her and I thought she could do better."

Looking at her compassionately, she caught my eye and then sagged. Our nature was so hard on her.

After a few seconds she seemed to collect herself. "Whether I agreed or not, what is done is done. She has been exposed to our world. Then we left. Maybe our dear Eddie-boy told the truth that she believed our leaving to be the best, but maybe not. She might be glad to see the backside of us or she might believe that we abandoned her. I certainly don't know what goes in on that girl's head.

"Even though I do agree with Eddie-boy that the Quiluetes are legally responsible, not us, after listening to Esme's story, I grudgingly admit I might have voted in haste. I might believe that she could do better to stay human, but if I try to force her to do what I think is best for her life, then I am no better. If she truly wanted _him_ so badly that she was willing to become like us, then I can't imagine how upset she would be. And not everyone forgives easily or quickly, Alice. Or perhaps their bond was fickle, nothing more than infatuation and she quickly moved on like Edward said she would. In reality that is the most we can hope on her behalf. Either way, though, she has the right to her own mind, opinions, and feelings, something you and Eddie seemed to forget."

A heavy silence hung between us all.

"I can tell you that Edward believed the words he spoke," Jasper told us. "I've gone over that conversation thousands of times and there was no malice on his part or dishonesty. Nonetheless, that doesn't mean he spoke Bella's true opinion. I wasn't close enough to her after her birthday party to say if what happened caused her sentiments to change, but even as I lunged at her, underneath her fear and worry was compassion, acceptance, and genuine concern for me. Her familial affection for us was no weaker in that moment than when she came in."

Carlisle held Jasper's eyes for a few seconds and some understanding passed between them.

"Humans are not as constant as our kind, generally, that is true," I offered in agreement after a few moments of silence. "However, I was extremely constant over the years. So much so that I waited and hoped, since meeting him at sixteen, that Carlisle would come back for me. I waited too many years, in fact. Even when I was married, I hoped that I would see Carlisle again. That was after only a few hours. Bella spent months around Edward and with our family. Us leaving might cause her to be even that more raw for it, she might miss us all that greater because of it, or Edward might be right and she has moved on. I honestly don't have the answers, but I'll tell you the same thing I told Carlisle.

"The thing that made the difference for me as I reflected over my tale was having him stay in my life, even at the fringes, and him being someone I believed I could depend upon if I needed. Even though I never saw him in all the years in between that information helped me weather what life threw at me. It is that and nothing more that leads me to believe that we should not cut off all communication with her. I feel as if we owe her at least that much. But again, these impressions are based on assumptions that might be incorrect. I might be placing similarities that simply are not there. I am often wrong."

"Not about things like this," Jasper whispered.

I looked at him surprised.

"With my gift I can tell you that Esme is never wrong about the heart of a matter. She has been absolutely dead on every time for the last over 55 years now." Then Jasper looked at me strongly. I would have dared to say he was impressed by me and a little concerned that he had revealed too much. It was sweet.

"Alice," Carlisle spoke gentle and soothing, "if we decided to move back and I asked for you to look for Bella's reaction, would you be willing?"

Her shaking calmed shortly after looking at Carlisle.

Emmett eyes flashed in awe between Carlisle and Alice. "Are we really going to go back on what we promised Edward?" Emmett whispered softly to Rosalie.

She shrugged trying to look as if the discussion wasn't impacting her.

"Any objections?" Carlisle asked the room.

There was heavy tension and then Rosalie spoke quicker than she usually did as if the words were pushing past her lips before she was able to retract them. "Is that really who we have become? We're going to go back on our word? Considering the possibility that we made a mistake and making a collective choice to reexamine that decision is one thing, especially since Eddie opted out, but to go against what had been agreed simply because doing so would make things more convenient for us? Since when did making our life easier, especially if it broke our word, become what we did? What happened to that speech you gave Edward in Esme's story about not doing what we wanted just because we could?"

We each looked slightly stunned, but Carlisle looked shell-shocked. He was completely still his lips tight and his eyes appearing to be reviewing the past, perhaps to find a truthful answer to her questions.

Squeezing his hand I offered gently, "Perhaps, Carlisle, we could continue the conversation about what we want to do next without the use of Alice's gift and if we can agree on a decision, then that decision could include whether or not Alice can go back to searching out Bella's future."

He blinked repeatedly, moved his head to my eyes, and told me, "Yes, Esme, that's a good plan. Thank you for your suggestion."

I nodded in appreciation of his compliment and squeezed his hand briefly.

Everyone but Alice looked relieved. "Um …," she began.

We all turned to her.

She caught my gaze and looked at me questioning.

I nodded to her in encouragement.

She looked up at Jasper, took in a lung-full of his scent, and stated, "Well, you see, it's been hard to stop seeing Bella."

Emmett's and Rosalie's jaw dropped and Carlisle looked disappointed.

She put her hands up in surrender. "I tried to warn Edward. I can't just switch it off. It would be like trying to not see any of you. I can stop actively looking and can try to tune the mundane decisions out, so that I don't see most things, but if someone in the family makes a significant decision it shows up. I can't help it."

There were general nods to continue, even if Rosalie was irritated by Alice's news.

"So, the same is true with Bella. She decided to stay in Forks rather than move back to her mom's, for instance."

"We understand that you've done your best," Carlisle soothed.

"Yeah, well that's not the problem, actually," she admitted irritated with a hint of embarrassment in her tone.

Rosalie and Emmett looked at her cross.

Carlisle looked concerned.

"See, like when she decided to stay in Fork she didn't come in clear like she used to as if something was interfering with the connection. It's like she's staticy for some odd reason."

"Have your visions ever been like this before?" Carlisle asked.

"Honestly, she's kind of like Edward. He's difficult to search. It was why it was hard to find him the first time. He wasn't making decisions. Like when he was in a comatose state. The few small things I have gotten from her recently seem worse in a way that I can't explain or even really articulate well. I have tried to tune into her in order to solve this interference issue, but my attempts have gotten nowhere. My point is that, even if we do vote for me to watch her once more, I cannot guarantee that I will be able to see her."

Carlisle nodded. "Thank you for informing us Alice."

"You're welcome," she acknowledged.

He looked at Emmett and Rosalie.

"I already said my bit. I vote for us to move back." Then Emmett looked at Rosalie.

Rosalie looked at Alice. "I get your point, Alice, I do, and I wasn't trying to upset you on purpose. I just think that you and Edward sometimes think you know what's best of others and how they're going to respond before they get a chance to, and I want you to be prepared if she's changed. Humans change after all. Not to mention, that in truth, we don't know what Edward told her. He could have relayed your message to her exactly as you asked him to or he could have told her lies in order to turn her against us. He can be a manipulative little prick when he wants to be."

Stunned taking a quick intake of breath I didn't want to imagine Edward doing such a thing, but then he had often acted out of character when it came to Bella. If we couldn't be certain that what he said was a true reflection of her wishes, then could I really say anything for sure? I didn't know anymore. Unfortunately Rosalie had more of a valid point than I wanted to admit, and by Alice's expression she was also considering the possibility.

"I'm not objecting to moving back outright, but I'm unwilling to agree carte blanche, especially since we don't know the reception we would get."

There was a silence filled with the weight of everyone's thoughts.

Myself, I was surprised at Rosalie, since I would have never contemplated the possibility that she would have considered moving back. It was a huge concession on her part.

"I have been pondering an idea, but I didn't mention it because I thought it might be silly," I said quietly.

"Let us hear it," Carlisle encouraged.

I looked around the room.

No one looked like they objected.

"Well, I thought we could write her a letter with our contacts and then leave it up to her."

"Kind of like Carlisle did in your story, Esme?"

"Yes, Jasper, like that," I answered.

"I agree with that idea," Jasper stated emphatically.

Alice looked at Jasper for a long time, them both saying nothing. "Yes, Esme," Alice stated despondently. "It's not my first choice, but it might be what's best for Bella. I would agree to that idea."

"I'm down," Emmett added.

"I could agree to that in principle," Rosalie stated reluctantly. "However, I would only do so if Esme writes it on our behalves," she added as she looked at Alice.

"But, but, but," Alice sputtered.

Rosalie put her hands flat on the table, "Look, Alice, it's nothing personal. I just think if Bella is upset, then Esme would have the best chance. If that doesn't work, then we have our answer. Honestly, if it was a letter from you, we wouldn't be sure she didn't respond simply out of spite."

Jasper unsuccessfully tried to hide his mirth.

Alice looked at him wounded.

"June bug, you can come off strong sometimes and Bella can be stubborn as a mule."

Alice looked at him dejected.

"Just saying, I think our Rose here has a valid point," Jasper continued.

Alice sighed defeated. "If that's our best shot, then fine, I will agree," she relented.

"I will agree to do so as long as everyone looks at the letter and agrees to it," I added.

"I agree with the Esme writing the letter and her stipulation," Jasper stated.

"Me too," Emmett added.

"Yes, I agree," Rosalie said after some thought.

Alice smiled at me, "Thank you, Esme. Yes, I will agree."

We all turned to Carlisle.

"See, it is possible for us to reach an agreed consensus." He grinned like he had one a noble peace prize. "I agree. Esme will write a letter and include our contact details, each and everyone's, except Edward's, and will explain that Edward isn't with us. We will all approve her letter. Then we will go from there. Consequently, we will table Edward's contingency that Alice not seek out Bella's future for now. Any objections?"

No one responded.

"Is there anything else?"

"Emmett and I were thinking of travelling Asia starting from Nepal and heading east through China."

"I start classes again soon," Jasper put in.

"I'm going to take a few courses," Alice added.

"We are staying here at least a few weeks, but it might be through the month before we return," I told them all.

"You'll have the satellite phone?"

"Yes, Rosalie," I answered assuring her.

After a few more details we finished our conference and then decided to play board games for a few hours. Soon after the games were being put away the kids decided to head back to their cabins where they would leave from when they were ready.

"Where were we before we were rudely interrupted?" my husband asked slyly once everyone else was out of hearing range.

"We were snowball fighting?" I said flirtatiously.

"Oh really?"

"Yes?" I asked uncertain.

"Come here you."

Carlisle's Bible had been right. The truth had set us free. Even more, though, the truth had healed us. The future was uncertain, but Carlisle and I were in a better space than when we had left Forks. My imagining and its telling had been difficult, but in the end it had been a gift and we had been changed for the better for it. Only the heavens knew what lay in store for our family next, but rise or fall Carlisle and I would get through it together, and together our family would find a way forward stronger than ever.

* * *

Author's Note

First and foremost I want to thank the incredible and amazing beta _kiwihipp._ This story would not look the same without her. I also wanted to thank Sara K M, EdwardsMate4ever, Goldielover, and IAMinquity for graciously sharing their thoughts and feedback throughout the story, along with Haemophilus Leona, Catspector, ForeverUnknownOooooh, and CarlisleandEsme. I am blessed to have such incredible writers read my utterings and share themselves with me. I am also so grateful for Jessica314, Miki In Blue Jeans, Staringatthesky, and Haemophilus Leona who have graciously permitted me to borrow part of their stories to incorporate into mine. I am beyond blessed with fellow writers who have encouraged and mentored me (not to mentioned put up with me) over the last year and whose patience and inspiration has given me great courage to even begin to consider writing a story like this.

I also wanted to offer my hopes that all the readers living in New Zealand and affected by the earthquakes there are well, with intact houses, clean water, safe roads, and all those things we take for granted when the earth does not move below our feet.

So, originally this was not the end of the story. Originally the story ended in Oct 2006, but as I worked on it I realised that really the story I was trying to tell about Esme and her growth as a wife and mother came full circle last chapter. This epilogue is really a teaser on what the sequel will be (I don't have a story title yet). The sequel will start where this ends and will go until Oct 2006. At the moment the sequel is 18 chapters long with each chapter about 6-8K, but as it's in a very rough draft form that most likely will change. I'm planing on working on it over winter break and having it presentable by February, but no promises. I have a tendency to work on something till I'm satisfied and right now I'm far from there.

To tied you over I wrote a very short (less than 6K) story that I will post later this month. It's darker than I usually write and rated M, so if that's not your thing, then I'd suggest avoiding it, and promise you won't hurt my feelings in the least. Jessica314 has challenged me to write a darker story than my usual fare (where Edward ends up in Volterra rather than with Carlisle) and this is my first attempt to put a toe into those darker waters.

Also, kiwihipp requested an AU about a story where Carlisle requested to court Miss Platt. The plot would be similar to how it was in ch2-3 here, but in chapter 4 where Carlisle decides not to court Esme, in kiwihipp's requested AU, he would instead write her father for permission to court her. I've started outlining it, and thus far it's a Carlisle and Esme only story. I won't start posting it until it's complete, so hopefully that will be after the sequel is done.

Thank you each and everyone of you for reading I hope you enjoyed!

As always share your thoughts and drop me a line.


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